The Old Land

O leal high hearts of England,
The evil days draw near,
When ye, with steel in heart and hand,
Must strike for all that's dear!
And better tread the bloodiest deck,
And fieriest field of fame,
Than break the heart and bow the neck,
And sit in the shadow of shame.
Let Despot, Death, or Devil come,
United here Ave stand:
We'll safely guard our Island-Home,
Or die for the dear old Land.

O, "Warriors of Old England,
You'll hurry to the call;
And her good ships shall sail the storm,
With their merry Mariners all.
In words she wasteth not her breath,
But be the trumpet blown,
And in the Battle's dance of death,
She'll dance the bravest down.
Let Despot, Death, or Devil come,
United here we stand:
We'll safely guard our Island-Home,
Or die for the dear old Land.

Success to our dear England,
When dark clays come again;
And may she rise up glorious
As the rainbow after rain.
A thousand memories warm us still,
And, ere the old spirit dies,
The purple of each wold and hill
From English blood shall rise.
Let Despot, Death, or Devil come,
United here Ave stand:
We'll safely guard our Island-Home,
Or die for the dear old Land.

God strike with our dear England!
Long may the old land be
The guiding glory of the world;
Home of the fair and free!
Old Ocean on his silver shield
Shall lift our little Isle
Unvanquished still by flood or field,
While the heavens in blessing smile.
Let Despot, Death, or Devil come,
United here we stand:
We'll safely guard our I.sland-Home,
Or die for the dear old Land.