This is the sea that great BRITANNIA rules!
The waves salute their mistress. Still I see
Far in our wake the white cliffs of the free.
Arise, O tempest, blow, disturb these pools!
Ye waves, I love you! Let the puling fools
Prate as they will, but let me ever be
Tossed on your foaming crests. I shout with glee.
While the North wind my poet's forehead cools.
O guernseyed sailors, I am of your kin:
I too have in my blood the scorn of fear
That faced the storm, what time th' embattled din
Broke on Trafalgar, and an answering cheer
From British throats proclaimed, "We win! we win!"----
Dear me, what's this? Ahem! I'm feeling queer.