[Lyric] Billy Blue: A Ballad of the Fleet (Edward Fraser)

It was just at break o' day
We were cruising in the Bay
With Blue Billy in the Sov'ren in the van
When the French fleet bound for Brest
From Belleisle came heading West—
'Twas so, my lads, the saucy game began
Billy Blue—
Here's to you, Billy Blue, here's to you!

Washing decks was hardly done
When we heard the warning gun
And we saw 'em, black and clear against the sky;
Twelve big ships of the line,—
And with frigates, twenty-nine
On the easterly horizon drawing nigh
Billy Blue, etc

We'd the Triumph and the Mars
And the Sov'ren—pride of tars
Billy Ruff'n, and the Brunswick, known to fame;
With the Pallas, and the Phaeton
Frigates that the flag did wait on—
Seven ships to uphold Old England's name
Billy Blue, etc
From the Phaeton frigate first
In a flash the numbers burst
As the signal bunting 'broke' and fluttered free;
But we cheer'd from ship to ship
And we set the guns to strip
For to fight 'em we could trust old Blue Billee!
Billy Blue, etc

He was shavin', so they say
When he heard the news that day
And his skipper came his wishes for to larn;
But he only said, 'All right
Let 'em bark, for we can bite
For all they're like to try on us, I don't care a darn!'
Billy Blue, etc

'No, I don't care a rap
For any Frenchy chap
When they come they'll get the dressing they deserve;
I've the best four in the fleet
That the Frenchmen well could meet
With the "Fightin' Billy Ruff'n" in reserve.'
Billy Blue, etc

'As she broke the line with Howe
So she's game to do it now
And repeat her "First o' June" here in these seas;
With their name for dauntless pluck
And the Billy Ruff'n's luck
I will fight as many Frenchmen as you please!'
Billy Blue, etc
But it wasn't merely bluff
For he saw the job was tough
And the signal promptly flew to 'Go about':
With the slowest ship in front
And his own to bear the brunt,—
So we headed back for England, guns run out
Billy Blue, etc

To the Sov'ren's lads he told
Like some hero chief of old
As he bade 'em from the quarter-deck 'Good luck';
'To no foe upon the sea
You may take it, men, from me
Is the ensign of the Sov'ren to be struck!'
Billy Blue, etc

'Let the odds be what they will
We must go on fighting still
For the honour of the Sov'ren's old renown;
And when, men, all is done
As we fire our last gun
With our colours flying still, we'll go down!'
Billy Blue, etc

Soon we heard the Branle-bas
What cheers up the Frenchy tar
And their 'Vives' for 'La Nation!' and 'La Patrie!'
'Tis the way, as you should know
With the maritime Crappo
When he's got to do his fightin' on the sea
Billy Blue, etc
Then they came on, looking slaughter
Like to blow us from the water
As they near'd to port and starboard and astarn;
But we put in double shot
And we paid 'em back so hot
That they looked at one another with consarn
Billy Blue, etc

'Just a broadside or two—Certainement
For the honour of their flag—cela s'entend
But it's more than very fine, seven ships to twenty-nine!—
Most decidedly 'no go,'
Not at all comme il faut
And a bit of British insolence for punishment condign!'
Billy Blue, etc

'Just a broadside, if they like
Then forthwith their colours strike
Having rendered to their flag the homage due:
It's sheer madness to pretend
They can fight us to the end—
There's no other course the Rosbifs can pursue!'
Billy Blue, etc

Next the Triumph they attacked
And the Mars got badly whacked
'Twas the Sov'ren with her broadsides beat 'em back:
Her three tiers all aflame
Sweeping round the flagship came
Leaving death and Frenchmen's wreckage in her track
Billy Blue, etc

And they didn't let us rest
For they did their level best
Fighting on and off from eight till after five;
Till at length they seemed to see
That it wasn't going to be
That they shouldn't take us dead, nor yet alive
Billy Blue, etc

How it ended, is a story
Not at all to France's glory
Of a little game the Phaeton's men did play;
Making Mossoo go in fear
That the Channel Fleet was near
And think perhaps he'd better run away
Billy Blue, etc

For Blue Billy sent the Phaeton
When the pass looked like a strait one
To cruise out in the offing,—just in sight:
'At a fitting time,' said he
'You will signal down to me
That Lord Bridport will be with us before night.'
Billy Blue, etc

'You will fire guns, you know
And to'gallant sheets let go
As the custom is, reporting fleets at sea;
With a signal that they're 'friends'—
Which I think will serve our ends
To humbug those chaps astarn with Monsieur V.'
Billy Blue, etc

The Frenchmen cried 'Morblo!'
And they shuffled to and fro
Till they judg'd they'd haul their wind and go about;
To Belleisle back all the way
At anchor there to stay
Till they learnt the coast was clear to venture out
Billy Blue, etc

Yet no Channel Fleet was near
To excuse the Frenchmen's fear
For Lord Bridport was still cruising leagues afar
And a well-worn ruse de guerre
Was a hardy game to dare
With French frigates—seventeen—the plot to mar
Billy Blue, etc

It so happened, for the rest
Just to point the Phaeton's jest
By the merest chance—it wasn't meant at all—
Distant coasters passing by
Chanced to fleck the evening sky
And still faster to impel the flying Gaul
Billy Blue, etc

Here's to Stopford of the Phaeton
And Flag-Captain Whitby bold
To Fitzgerald of the Brunswick, tried and true
Gallant Gower of the Triumph
Gallant Cotton of the Mars
Lord Cranstoun—Billy Ruff'n—here's to you!
Billy Blue, etc

Aye, Blue Billy:—here's to him, with three times three
To the honour of his name upon the sea!
'He upheld Old England's credit,' said the country in its pride:
'Cornwallis's Retreat,'
Greek Xenophon's great feat
In its spirit we may claim to set beside
Billy Blue, etc

E'en our foes, the Parley Voos
At this feat of Billy Blue's
Professed to be astounded—'Etonnés':—
'Hors de ligne' 'twas, so to speak
'Une affaire trop héroïque,'
'Le Déterminé,' they call him to this day
Billy Blue—
Here's to you, Billy Blue, here's to you!