"When English ground first struck the sailor's view,
Huzza! for England, roar'd the jovial crew.
The waving crutch leaped up in every hand,
While one poor leg was left alone to stand;
The very name another limb bestows,
And through the artery the blood now flows.
We reach'd the shore, and kiss'd the much-lov'd ground,
And fondly fancied friends would crowd around;
But few with wretchedness acquaintance claim,
And little pride is every where the same.