Sea-Song

Come, show your Colours now, my Lads,
That all the world may know
The Boys are equal to their Dads,
Whatever blast may blow.

All hands aboard! our country calls
On her Seafaring folk!
In giving up our wooden Walls,
More need for Hearts of Oak.

Remember how that old Fire-Drake
Would singe the Spaniard's beard;

And think how Raleigh, Nelson, Blake,
Into their harbours steered.

Think how o' nights we cut them out!

'Twas many a time and oft —
Silence! — a rush — a tug — a shout —
And the old flag flew aloft.

Be it one to seven, — be it Hell or Heaven,—
We fought our decks red-wet!
Be it hell or heaven, — be it one to seven.

We fear no Foenian yet.

At every port-hole there shall flame
The same fierce battle-face:
All worthy of the old sea-fame —
All of the old Sea-Race.