There's a little group of isles beyond the wave -
So tiny, you might almost wonder where it is -
That nation is the bravest of the brave,
And cowards are the rarest of all rarities.
The proudest nations kneel at her command;
She terrifies all foreign-born rapscallions;
And holds the peace of Europe in her hand
With half a score invincible battalions!
Such, at least, is the tale
Which is born on the gale,
From the island which dwells in the sea.
Let us hope, for her sake,
That she makes no mistake -
That she's all she professes to be!
O may we copy all her maxims wise,
And imitate her virtues and her charities;
And may we, by degrees, acclimatise
Her Parliamentary peculiarities!
By doing so, we shall in course of time,
Regenerate completely our entire land -
Great Britain is that monarchy sublime,
To which some add (but others do not) Ireland.
Such, at least, is the tale
Which is born on the gale,
From the island which dwells in the sea.
Let us hope, for her sake,
That she makes no mistake -
That she's all she professes to be!
Such, at least, is the tale
Which is born on the gale.
