"These are the immortal,—the fearless."—Upanishads.
Up, lads! they say we've struck a berg, though there 's no danger yet,— Our noble liner was not built to wreck!—
But women may have felt a shock they 're needing to forget, And when there 's trouble, men should be on deck.
Come!—now 's the time! They're wanting us to brighten them a bit; Play up, my lads—as lively as you can!
Give them a merry English air! they want no counterfeit Like that down-hearted tune you just began! . . .
I think the Captain's worried, lads: maybe the thing's gone wrong; Well, we will show them all is right with us!
Of Drake and the Armadas now we'll play them such a song Shall make them of the hero emulous.
When boats are being lowered, lads, your place and mine are here,— O we were never needed more than now!
When others go, it is for us those left behind to cheer, And I am glad, my lads, that we know how!
If it is Death that 's calling us, we 'll make a rave response; Play up, play up!—ye may not play again;
The prize that Nelson won at last, the chance that comes but once, Is ours, my lads!—the chance to die like men!