Whilst landsmen wander uncontroll’d,
And boast the rights of freemen,
O view the tender’s loathsome hold,
Where droops your injur’d seamen;
Dragg’d by Oppression’s savage grasp,
From every dear connection,
’Midst putrid air, O see them gasp!
O mark their deep dejection.
Blush, then, ye mean, ye pension’d host,
Who wallow in profusion,
For yon foul cell proves all your boast
To be but mere delusion.

If liberty be ours, O say,
Why are not all protected?
Why is the hand of ruffian sway
’Gainst seamen thus directed?
Is this your proof of British rights,
Is this rewarding bravery?
O shame to boast your tars’ exploits,
And doom those tars to slavery
Blush, &c.

When first returned from noxious skies,
Or Winter’s raging ocean,
To land the sun-burnt seaman flies,
Impressed by strong emotion;
His much-lov’d wife, his children dear,
Around him cling delighted,
But, lo! the impressing fiends appear,
And every joy is blighted.
Blush, &c.

Then from each soft endearment torn,
Behold the seaman languish,
His wife and children left forlorn,
The prey of bitter anguish.
Bereft of him whose vig’rous strength
From want had them defended,
They droop, and all their woes at length
Are in a workhouse ended.
Blush, &c.

Mark, ye minions of a court,
Who prate of Freedom’s blessing,
Whom every hell-born war support,
And vindicate impressing:
A time will come when beings like you,
Mere baubles of creation,
No more will make mankind pursue
The works of devastation.
Blush, &c.