The French Wars
The French Wars.
The boats of Newhaven and Folkestone and Dover
To Dieppe and Boulogne and to Calais Cross over;
And in each of those runs there is not a square yard
Where the English and French haven't fought and fought hard!
To Dieppe and Boulogne and to Calais Cross over;
And in each of those runs there is not a square yard
Where the English and French haven't fought and fought hard!
If the ships that were sunk could be floated once more,
They'd stretch like a raft from the shore to the shore,
And we’d see, as we crossed, every pattern and plan
Of ship that was built since sea-fighting began.
They'd stretch like a raft from the shore to the shore,
And we’d see, as we crossed, every pattern and plan
Of ship that was built since sea-fighting began.
There’d be biremes and brigantines, cutters and sloops,
Cogs, carracks and galleons with gay gilded poops—
Hoys, caravels, ketches, corvettes and the rest,
As thick as regattas, from Ramsgate to Brest.
Cogs, carracks and galleons with gay gilded poops—
Hoys, caravels, ketches, corvettes and the rest,
As thick as regattas, from Ramsgate to Brest.
But the galleys of Caesar, the squadrons of Sluys,
And Nelson's crack frigates are hid from our eyes,
Where the high Seventy-fours of Napoleon's days
Lie down with Deal luggers and French chasse-marées.
And Nelson's crack frigates are hid from our eyes,
Where the high Seventy-fours of Napoleon's days
Lie down with Deal luggers and French chasse-marées.
They’ll answer no signal—they rest on the ooze
With their honey-combed guns and their skeleton crews—
And racing above them, through sunshine or wale,
The Cross-Channel packets come in with the Mail.
With their honey-combed guns and their skeleton crews—
And racing above them, through sunshine or wale,
The Cross-Channel packets come in with the Mail.
Then the poor sea-sick passengers, English and French,
Must open their trunks on the Custom-house bench,
While the officers rummage for smuggled cigars
And nobody thinks of our blood-thirsty wars!
Must open their trunks on the Custom-house bench,
While the officers rummage for smuggled cigars
And nobody thinks of our blood-thirsty wars!
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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