(4)
O what a snug little Island!
They’d all have a touch at the Island
Some were shot dead, some of them fled,
And some stay'd to live in the Island.
Then a very great war-man, call’d Billy, the Norman,
Cry’d Damn it, I never liked my land;
It would be much more handy to leave this Normandy,
And live on yon beautiful Island.
Says he, 'Tis a snug little Island;
Shan't us go visit the Island?
Hop, skip and jump, there he was plump,
And he kick’d up a dust in the Island.
Yet party deceit help’d the Normans to beat,
Of traitors they manag’d to buy land;
By Dane, Saxon, or Pict, we ne’er had been lick’d
Had they stuck to the King of the Island.
Poor Harold, the King of the Island,
He lost both his life and his Island;
That's very true—what could he do?
Like a Briton he died for his Island.
Then the Spanish Armada set out to invade a',
Quite sure, if they ever came nigh land,
The cou’dn’t do no less than tuck up Queen Bess,
And take their full swing in the Island,
