SAINT GEORGE he was a fighting man, as all the tales do tell;
He fought a battle long ago, and fought it wondrous well.
With his helmet, and his hauberk, and his good cross-hilted sword,
Oh, he rode a-slaying dragons to the glory of the Lord.
And when his time on earth was done, he found he could not rest
Where the year is always summer in the Islands of the Blest;
So back he came to earth again, to see what he could do,
And they cradled him in England—
In England, April England—
Oh, they cradled him in England where the golden willows blew!
Saint George he was a fighting man, and loved a fighting breed,
And whenever England wants him now, he's ready at her need;