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.