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| DADDY NEPTUNE, one day, to Freedom did say, | |
| If ever I lived 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! | 5 |
| 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; | 10 |
| And Dane, Pict, and Saxon, their homes turned 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, | 15 |
| And some stayed to live on the island. | |
| |
| Then a very great war-man, called Billy the Norman, | |
| Cried, “Drat it, I never liked my land. | |
| It would be much more handy to leave this Normandy, | |
| And live on your beautiful island.” | 20 |
| Says he, “’T is a snug little island; | |
| Sha’n’t us go visit the island?” | |
| Hop, skip, and jump, there he was plump, | |
| And he kicked up a dust in the island. | |
| |
| But party deceit helped the Normans to beat; | 25 |
| Of traitors they managed to buy land; | |
| By Dane, Saxon, or Pict, Britons ne’er had been licked, | |
| Had they stuck to the king of their island. | |
| Poor Harold, the king of our island! | |
| He lost both his life and his island! | 30 |
| That ’s all very true: what more could he do? | |
| Like a Briton he died for his island! | |
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| The Spanish armada set out to invade—a, | |
| ’T will sure, if they ever come nigh land. | |
| They couldn’t do less than tuck up Queen Bess, | 35 |
| And take their full swing on the island. | |
| O the poor queen of the island! | |
| The Dons came to plunder the island; | |
| But snug in her hive the queen was alive, | |
| And “buzz” was the word of the island. | 40 |
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| These proud puffed-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! | |
| O, for the ships of the island! | 45 |
| The good wooden walls of the island; | |
| Devil or Don, let them come on; | |
| And see how they ’d come off the island! | |
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| Since Freedom and Neptune have hitherto kept time, | |
| In each saying, “This shall be my land”; | 50 |
| Should the “Army of England,” or all it could bring, land, | |
| We ’d show ’em some play for the island. | |
| We ’d fight for our right to the island; | |
| We ’d give them enough of the island; | |
| Invaders should just—bite once at the dust, | 55 |
| But not a bit more of the island. | |
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