Plattsburg Bay! Plattsburg Bay!
Blue and gold in the dawning ray,
Crimson under the high noonday
With the reek of the fray!

It was Thomas Macdonough, as gallant a sailor
As ever went scurrying over the main;
And he cried from his deck, If they think I'm a quailer ,
And deem they can capture this Lake of Champlain,
We 'll show them they 're not fighting France, sir, nor Spain!

So from Cumberland Head to the little Crab Island
He scattered his squadron in trim battle-line;
And when he saw Downie come rounding the highland,
He knelt him, beseeching for guidance divine,
Imploring that Heaven would crown his design.

Then thundered the Eagle her lusty defiance;
The stout Saratoga aroused with a roar;
Soon gunboat and galley in hearty alliance
Their resonant volley of compliments pour;
And ever Macdonough's the man to the fore!

And lo, when the fight toward its fiercest was swirling,
A game-cock, released by a splintering ball,
Flew high in the ratlines, the smoke round him curling,
And over the din gave his trumpeting call,
An omen of ultimate triumph to all!

Then a valianter light touched the powder-grimed faces;
Then faster the shot seemed to plunge from the gun;
And we shattered their yards and we sundered their braces,
And the fume of our cannon — it shrouded the sun;
Cried Macdonough — Once more, and the battle is won!

Now, the flag of the haughty Confiance is trailing;
The Linnet in woe staggers in toward the shore;
The Finch is a wreck from her keel to her railing;
The galleys flee fast to the strain of the oar;
Macdonough! 't is he is the man to the fore!

Oh, our main decks were grim and our gun decks were gory,
And many a brave brow was pallid with pain;
And while some won to death, yet we all won to glory
Who fought with Macdonough that day on Champlain,
And humbled her pride who is queen of the main!