




My friend, Ron Fallahay, formerly of the Royal Canadian Navy.



Ye Mariners of England
Thomas Campbell. 1774–1844
E Mariners of England
That guard our native seas!
Whose flag has braved a thousand years
The battle and the breeze!
Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe;
And sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow!
While the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy winds do blow.
The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wave—
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow!
While the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy winds do blow.
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,
Her home is on the deep.
The thunders from her native oak
She quells the floods below,
As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy winds do blow!
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.
The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn;
Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow!
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.
|


Heart of Oak
ome cheer up my Lads,
'Tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to this wonderful year.
To honour we call you, as freemen, not slaves,
For who are so free as the sons of the waves?
Chorus:
Heart of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
We always are ready, Steady, boys, steady,
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again!
We ne'er see our foes but we wish them to stay,
They never see us but they wish us away.
If they run, why, we follow and run them ashore,
For if they won't fight us, we cannot do more.
Chorus:
They swear they'll invade us, these terrible foes;
They frighten women, children, and beaus,
But should their flat bottoms in darkness get o'er,
Still Britons they'll find to receive them on shore.
Chorus:
We'll still make them fear, and we'll still make them flee,
And drub 'em on shore as we've drubb'd 'em at sea,
Then cheer up my lads, with one hear let us sing,
Our Soldiers, our Sailors, our Statesmen, our King.
Chorus:
We'll still make 'em run, and we'll still make 'em sweat,
In spite of the Devil and Brussels Gazette,
Then cheer up my lads, with one heart let us sing,
Our Soldiers, our Sailors, our Statesmen, our King.


©2004-2005 - Page Created & Copyrighted by Nellieanna H. Hay
~ ~ For my friend, Ron.
Click Vagabond House
(A beloved favorite poem of Ron's)
Browse: Directory
Sign: Thanks for coming!
|