THE BRIDPORT NET.

Stabbed by the Bridport Net,
Above the door,
See it swing,
Once for a dead Man,
Thrice for a Man they could
                             Not Hang,

When in Sixty Six, eleven proud Men,
Played,
Four, Four, Two,
On England's sacred turf,

Where ayr  it went from Hardy's Wessex,
To  Fight our neighbours,
Those confounded French,
At  Trafalgar, and Waterloo,

While a cross   the Parish bounds,
Bells and Bells did ring,
In service  of our  King.