Poor Joe, the marine, was at Portsmouth well known,|
No lad in the corps dress'd so smart;
The lasses ne'er looked at the lad with a frown,
His manliness won every heart.
Sweet Polly at Portsmouth he took for his bride,
And surely there never was seen
A couple so gay march to church, side by side,
As Polly and Joe the marine.
The bright torch of Hymen was scarce in a blaze,
When thundering drums they heard rattle;
And Joe in an instant was forc'd to the seas
To give a bold enemy battle.
The action was dreadful, each ship a mere wreck,
Such slaughter few sailors have seen;
Two hundred brave fellows lay strew'd on the deck,
And among them poor Joe the marine.
But victory - faithful to brave British tars,
At length put an end to the fight;
Then homeward they steer'd, full of glory and scars,
And soon had fam'd Portsmouth in sight.
The ramparts were crowded, the heroes to greet,
And foremost sweet Polly was seen;
But the very first sailor she chanc'd for to meet,
Told the fate of poor Joe the marine.