But snug in her hive the queen was alive,
And "buzz" was the word of the island.

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!
The good wooden walls of the island;
Devil or Don, let them come on;
And see how they'd come off the island!

Since Freedom and Neptune have hitherto kept time,
In each saying, "This shall be my land";
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,
But not a bit more of the island.

THOMAS DIBDIN.

* * * * *




THE JACOBITE ON TOWER HILL.