King Hancock sat in a regal state, ~ And big with pride and vainly great, ~ Address’d his rebel crew, ~ These haughty Britons soon shall yield ~ The boasted honors of the field, ~ While our brave sons pursue.

Six thousand fighting men or more, ~ Protect the Carolina shore, ~ And Freedom will defend; ~ And stubborn Britons soon shall feel, ~ ‘Gainst Charleston, and hearts of steel, ~ How vainly they contend.

But ere he spake in dread array, ~ To rebel foes, ill-fated day, ~ The British boys appear; ~ Their mien with martial ardor fir’d, ~ And by their country’s wrongs inspir’d, ~ Shook Lincoln’s heart with fear.

See Clinton brave, serene, and great, ~ For mighty deeds rever’d by fate, ~ Direct the thund’ring fight, ~ While Mars, propitious God of war, ~ Looks down from his triumphal car, ~ With wonder and delight.

"Clinton," he cries, "the palm is thine, ~ ‘Midst heroes thou wert born to shine, ~ A great immortal name, ~ And Cornwallis’ mighty deeds appear, ~ Conspicuous each revolving year, ~ The pledge if future fame."

Our tars, their share of glories won, ~ For they among the bravest shone, ~ Undaunted, firm and bold. ~ Whene’er engag’d, their ardor show’d ~ Hearts which with native valor glow’d, ~ Hearts of true British mould.