OUR Commodore's return'd again, From nearly a three month's cruise, And has not met a Man of War, To give him any abuse.

In the Western Ocean he has sail'd, And nothing did him annoy, They strive to clear the PRESIDENT, For she'll burn, sink, and destroy.

Where is a man like ROGER'S? Such a gallant Commodore, A British Frigate dare not cruise, Without a SEVENTY-FOUR.

Amongst the WEST-INDIA fleet, Our Commodore has been, He has destroy'd a number of ships, But they were Merchantmen.

He fell in with a Seventy-Four, And a Frigate under his Lee, And then they thought they'd take Rodgers, The Sovereign of the Sea.

He shiver'd his topsails in the wind, And hove the main one to the mast, Whilst his Majesty's Seventy-Four, Was sailing up quite fast.

As soon as she discover'd, What the PRESIDENT had done, She rounded in the wind, No further dare she come.

But Ah! had she come up, Her figure they'd deform, They made her masts and sails appaar, Like Sea-weed in a storm.

So thus you see brave Rodgers, Fears not the Britons bold, Amongst the Yankee heroes, His name shall be enroll'd.

For his brave crew no danger knows, No sorrow do they sip, Their motto's---"Death or Victory." And don't give up the ship.

The Soldier's know their duty, For Sailor's they must fight. We'll make them bear the standard, "Free Trade and Sailors Rights."

Now to conclude my story, And an end unto my song, I am nothing but a Sailor, To the Ocean I belong.

But now our country is at war, I'm confined here at home, I wish to mercy if I've rights, They'd let my rights alone..

Here's a health unto the Commodore, And all his crew besides, And all Columbia's Sailors, They are her nations pride.