Drake's Drum
Henry Newbolt
1862 to 1938
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Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
An' dreamin' arl time o' Plymouth Hoe.
Yarnder lumes the island, yarnder the ships,
Wi' sailor lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe,
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin'
He sees et arl plainly as he saw et long ago.
Drake he a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas,
(Capten, tha sleepin' there below?),
Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease,
An' dreamin' arl time o' Plymouth Hoe,
"Take my drum to England, et by the shore,
Strike et when your powder's runnin' low;
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the o' Heaven,
An' drum them up the Channel as drummed them long ago."
Drake he's in his till the great Armadas come,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' below?),
Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for drum,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,
Call him when ye sail to meet the foe;
the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin',
shall find him, ware an' wakin', as they found long ago.