Here's the text from one of the broadsides in the Bodleian collection. I have added punctuation, and divided the text into 4-line stanzas. (There were no divisions as I found it.):


BATTLE OF BAROSSA

On the 21st of February from Cadiz we set sail,
Which many a gallant Briton has cause to bewail,
And straight to Gibraltar our gallant fleet did steer,
And on the 23d, my boys, we landed at Algiziers.

Our general explain'd to us the hardships we must bear,
Still hoping British courage would conquer every care.
Thro' woods and lofty mountains our army marched along,
And tho' our number it was small, our courage still was strong.

The first place we halted at was called Tariffe,
And waiting for the Spaniards in a convent there we lay;
And when their troops were landed, we marched both night and day,
Still hoping soon those French to meet and show them British play.

The Spaniards took the right and said their country they would free,
And bid bold Britons keep the rear that glorious day to see,
But when Barossa plains appear'd, we never saw them more.
Their troops withdrew behind a wood near to St. Peter's shore.

But gallant General Graham, not knowing their design,
Resolved the British troops should ne'er be too far behind,
Advanc'd into a woods obscure, not dreading any snare,
When the enemy in ambush lay and clos'd upon our rear.

Some watchful eye espied the foe and unto our general flew,
Which wounded sore his tender heart and tears of sorrow drew.
"O cursed is my fate!" he cry'd. "Is this the wretched day
That bold Britons must deplore their fate, by Spaniards led astray?

"But to the right about, my boys, and let us give three cheers.
Attend your colours, my brave boys, and keep the right flank clear.
Let us to Cape Trafalgar, where brave Nelson bled before,
And fame shall soon her trumpet sound that Britons sweep the shore."

Like heroes we advanced fresh honours for to gain,
Disdaining every danger tho' thousands there lay slain.
"Well done, my boys," our general said. "Our number is but small,
But worse than that, it grieves me sore to see my heroes fall."

Then fire and smoke convuls'd the air and thunder reach'd the sky,
And so on we clos'd upon their rear and forced them to fly,
Three generals left behind them, their guns and eagles too,
While bold Britons cheer'd them oft and boldly did pursue.

So fill our bumpers round, my boys, altho' it gives us pain.
Their memory drink, who nobly fell on sad Barossa plain.
Likewise to every soldier brave who acted in the field,
For tho' we fought them two to one, we forced them to yield.

So now returning home again, we will make the alehouse ring,
And toast the lass that we love best, and George our sovereign king;
And may we ever guard the isle where plenty keeps her store,
And doubly pay each sweetheart's smiles that welcome us on shore.