So she tumbled out her guns
And a hundred of her sons,
And she taught the Dons to fight the bright _Medu--sa_.

When the foeman can be found
With the pluck to cross her ground,
First she walks him round and round, the bright _Medu--sa_;
Then she rakes him fore and aft
Till he's just a jolly raft,
And she grabs him like a kite, the bright _Medu--sa_.

She's the daughter of the breeze,
She's the darling of the seas,
And you'll call her, if you please, the bright _Medu--sa_;
For till England's sun be set--
And it's not for setting yet--
She shall bear her name by right, the bright _Medu--sa_.





The Old Superb

The wind was rising easterly, the morning sky was blue,
The Straits before us opened wide and free;
We looked towards the Admiral, where high the Peter flew,
And all our hearts were dancing like the sea.
"The French are gone to Martinique with four and twenty sail!
The Old _Superb_ is old and foul and slow,