(5)
O the poor Queen of the Island!
The Dons came to plunder the Island,
But, snug in her hive, the Queen was alive;
And buz was the word at the Island.
These proud puff’d-up cakes, thought to make ducks and drakes
Of our wealth, but they scarcely could spy land,
Ere our Drake had the luck to make their pride duck,
And stoop to the lads of the Island.
Huzza, for the lads of the Island!
The good wooden walls of the Island!
Devil or Don, let ’em come on,
But how would they come off at the Island?
I don’t wonder much, that the French and the Dutch,
Have since been oft tempted to try land:
I wonder much less they have met no success.
For why should we give up our Island?
O ’tis a wonderful Island!
All of 'em long for the Island:
Hold a bit there—let ’em take fire and air,
But we’ll have the sea and the Island.
Then since Freedom and Neptune have hithereto kept tune.
In each saying, This shall be my land,
