The Last of the 'Alabama'

Published by Permission of J. MARSH, Proprietor of the Copyright, 1102 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, where the Music can be obtained.

The East of the ‘Alabama.’

Off Cherbourg port, one summer’s day,
Our noble ship, the Kearsarge lay,
Quite anxious her respects to pay

She had as bold and brave a crew,
As ever sailed o’er ocean blue,
Whose hearts were bent on “putting through.”

Brave(?) Captain Semmes had sailed the sea,
O’er many a merchant vessel, he
Had won a Brilliant victory,

He had a thieving British crew,
Who unto nature’s instinct true,
Could pillage, rob, and murder too,

Her guns were east in British sand,
By British sailors they were manned,
And British shipwrights built and planned,

And let the truth be plainly told,
How she was bought with British Gold,
By British merchants armed and coaled,

So Captain Semmes quite confident,
That British crews were excellent,
Sent out a challenge insolent,

And boastingly did he aver,
He’d meet the Kearsarge, punish her,
And thrashing sound administer,

Poor devil! little had he thought,
The combat which he had besought,
Could end in victory for aught.

So steaming outward in the bay,
To where the gallant Kearsarge law,
Went—dashing from her bow the spray,

Brave “Winslow” and his noble crew,
Their feelings scarcely could subdue,
As they saw coming to their view,

For Yankee tars had heretofore,
Met crews such as the Pirate bore,
And in his heart each sailor swore

The ship for action was prepared,
The “Stars and Stripes” raised overhead,
From cannon’s mouth a ball was sped,

Then flew a storm of iron hail,
Which caused the Pirate crew to quail,
As “Winslow” boldly did assail,

The battle raged an hour or so,
When captain Semmes began to show,
That he had met his overthrow,

And lost his Alabama.
Then “Winslow” in her hull did pour
A broadside—as she steered for shore,
She sunk—and Semmes shall nevermore

The coward “Deerhound,” now bereft
Of hope, commenced her sneaking theft,
And stole what pris’ners we had left

A day of reck’ning yet will come,
When Yankee fife and Yankee drum,
Will cause the British to succumb,

MORAL.
Now Britishers do you beware,
And don’t to combat Yankees dare,
Or you perhaps the fate may share

For “Uncle Sam” will never stand,
An insult on the sea or land;
The men and ships at his command,

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