Catharine Ogie (1815-1825)/Daddy Neptune

by Thomas Dibdin

For other versions of this work, see The Snug Little Island.

DADDY NEPTUNE.

Daddy Neytune one day,
To Freedom did say,
If ever I live upon dry land,
The spot I should hit on,
Should be little Britain:
Says Freedom, Why that’s my own island!
O it’s a nice little Island,
'Tis a tight little, right little Island.

Julius Caesar the Roman,
Who yielded to no man,
Came by water, he could not come by land;
And Dane, Pict, and Saxon,
Their homes turn’d their backs on,
And all for the sake of the Island,
O it's a nice little Island,
’Tis a right litle, tight little Island.

Then another great war-man,
Call’d Billy the Norman,
Cried, ‘Hang it I don’t much like my land ;
It would sure be more handy
To leave this Normandy,
And go to that beautiful Island.
Shan’t us go and visit the Island,
The right little, tight little Island?

Then says Harold the king,
As Histories sing.
"While I live it shall never be thy land.”
So he died, I well wot,
Because he was shot,
In bravely defending the Island.
Poor Harold the king of the Island!
Like a Briton he died for his Island.

Yet 'twas partly deceit
Help’d the Norman to beat;
Of traitors they manag’d to buy land
By Dane, Saxon, or Pict,
We had never been lick’d,
Had we stuck to the king of the Island
Then let us stand firm to the Island,
The right little, tight little Island.

The Spanish armadas,
Set out to invade us,
And swore that if e’er they came nigh land,
They could not do less
Than hang up Queen Bess,
And kick up a dust in the Island.
O the poor Queen of the Island!
The dons would have plundered the Island.

Those proud puff’d up rakes
Thought to make ducks and drakes
Of our wealth; but before they could spy land,
Our Drake had the luck
To make their pride duck,
And stoop to the boys of the Island,
Huzza for the tars of the Island,
Of the right little, tight little Island.

Now I don’t wonder much
That the French and the Dutch
Have since been oft tempted to try land,
And I wonder much less
They have met no success,
For why should we give ’em the Island?
Pray i'n’t it our own little Island?
A nice little, tight little Island.

Then as Freedom and Neptune
Have hitherto kept tune
In each singing "This shall be my land,"
Let the army of England,
And all they can bring, land,
We’ll show ’em some play for the Island.
O how we will fight for the Islend,
The light little, tight little island.

The monstrous Great Nation,
With grand botheration,
Would vapour o'er lowland and highland;
May our Nelson be blest,
Who has lowered their crest,
And taught them respect for the Island.
O it’s a nice little Island.

Now they all have the hip,
And at sea scarce a ship.
Let ’em go and build more upon dry land;
While our conquests increase,
Till the blessings of peace
Shall glad every heart in the Island.
O! it’s a nice little Island,
A right little, tight little Island.

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