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Patriotic Song: A book of English verse, being an anthology of the patriotic poetry of the British Empire, from the defeat of the Spanish Armada till the death of Queen Victoria — John Shaqi

Patriotic Song: A book of English verse, being an anthology of the patriotic poetry of the British Empire, from the defeat of the Spanish Armada till the death of Queen Victoria

General

Patriotic Song: A book of English verse, being an anthology of the patriotic poetry of the British Empire, from the defeat of the Spanish Armada till the death of Queen Victoria

English poetry; Patriotic poetry, English

Drop upon FOX’S grave the tear,
  ’Twill trickle to his rival’s bier;
  O’er PITT’S the mournful requiem sound,
  And FOX’S shall the notes rebound.
  The solemn echo seems to cry,--
  ‘Here let their discord with them die.
  Speak not for those a separate doom
  Whom fate made Brothers in the tomb;
  But search the land of living men,
  Where wilt thou find their like agen?’

                    _Sir Walter Scott._




DIBDIN


XLII

THE SNUG LITTLE ISLAND

  Daddy Neptune one day to Freedom did say,
    ‘If ever I live upon dry land,
  The spot I should hit on would be little Britain!’
    Says Freedom, ‘Why that’s my own island!’
      O, it’s a snug little island!
      A right little, tight little island,
      Search the globe round, none can be found
      So happy as this little island.

  Julius Cæsar, the Roman, who yielded to no man,
    Came by water,--he couldn’t come _by_ land;
  And Dane, Pict, and Saxon, their homes turn’d their backs on,
    And all for the sake of our island.
      O, what a snug little island!
      They’d all have a touch at the island!
      Some were shot dead, some of them fled,
      And some staid to live on the island.

  Then a very great war-man, called Billy the Norman,
    Cried ‘D--n it, I never liked my land;
  It would be much more handy to leave this Nor_man_dy,
    And live on yon beautiful island.’
      Says he, ‘’Tis a snug little island:
      Sha’n’t us go visit the island?’
      Hop, skip, and jump, there he was plump,
      And he kick’d up a dust in the island.

  But party-deceit help’d the Normans to beat;
    Of traitors they managed to buy land,
  By Dane, Saxon, or Pict, Britons ne’er had been lick’d,
    Had they stuck to the King of their island.
      Poor Harold, the King of the island!
      He lost both his life and his island.
      That’s very true; what more could he do?
      Like a Briton he died for his island!

  The Spanish Armada set out to invade-a,
    Quite sure, if they ever came nigh land,
  They couldn’t do less than tuck up Queen Bess,
    And take their full swing in the island.
      O, the poor Queen of the island!
      The Dons came to plunder the island;
      But, snug in the hive, the Queen was alive,
      And buz was the word in the island.

  Those proud puff’d-up cakes thought to make ducks and drakes
    Of our wealth; but they hardly could spy land,
  When our Drake had the luck to make their pride duck
    And stoop to the lads of the island.
      Huzza for the lads of the island!
      The good wooden walls of the island;
      Devil or Don, let ’em come on;
      But how would they come _off_ at the island?

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Patriotic Song: A book of English verse, being an anthology of the patriotic poetry of the British Empire, from the defeat of the Spanish Armada till the death of Queen Victoria

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