Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/A Song of the Sea

A Song of the Sea.

The sea, the sea, is England's, And England's shall remain,Though the might of France, and the world advance, To contest our ocean reign!Quoth gallant Blake, as he spread his sails, And his cannon shook the waves:Fire away, boys! for the day is ours, Or here, lads, foam our graves.Fire away, boys! quoth he again, For the sea, the sea, is England's,And England's shall remain!

The fresh winds blowing loud and strong, The Spaniards fled—which rare is—And we chased them far, and we chased them long, Till they anchored in Canaries.Quoth our admiral as their castles blazed With guns like a stormy night,Do they think to frighten us? Fire away, boys, For old England's might and right!Fire away, boys! quoth he again For the sea. the sea is England's,And England's shall remain!

 We sank and burned, and we took them all,With gold and spices laden, And our sweethearts each had a jolly, haul,For each loved his English maiden; But as home we came, quoth our admiral,I'm going, lads, aloft! And he died with a smile, but his dying wordWas, Fire away, boys! now board, her! soft! Fire away, boys! quoth he again,For the sea, the sea, is England's, And England's shall remain.