Our fathers of old were robust, stout, and strong, And kept open house with good cheer all day long, Which made their plump tenants rejoice in this song. _O, the Roast Beef_, etc.
When good Queen Elizabeth sat on the throne, Ere coffee and tea, and such slip-slops, were known, The world was in terror, if e'en she did frown. _O, the Roast Beef_, etc.
In those days, if fleets did presume on the main, They seldom or never returned back again; As witness the vaunting Armada of Spain. _O, the Roast Beef_, etc.
O, then we had stomachs to eat and to fight, And when wrongs were cooking, to set ourselves right; But now we're--hum?--I could, but--good night; _O, the Roast Beef of old England, And O, the old English Roast Beef_!
_The last four stanzas added by_ RICHARD LOVERIDGE.
Daddy Neptune, one day, to Freedom did say, If ever I lived upon dry land, The spot I should hit on would be little Britain! Says Freedom, "Why, that's my own island!" O, it's a snug little island! A right little, tight little island! Search the globe round, none can be found So happy as this little island.
Julius Cæsar, the Roman, who yielded to no man, Came by water,--he couldn't come by land; And Dane, Pict, and Saxon, their homes turned their backs on, And all for the sake of our island. 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 stayed to live on the island.
Then a very great war-man, called Billy the Norman, Cried, "Drat it, I never liked my land. It would be much more handy to leave this Normandy, And live on your beautiful island." Says he, "'Tis a snug little island; Sha'n't us go visit the island?" Hop, skip, and jump, there he was plump, And he kicked up a dust in the island.
But party deceit helped the Normans to beat; Of traitors they managed to buy land; By Dane, Saxon, or Pict, Britons ne'er had been licked, Had they stuck to the king of their island. Poor Harold, the king of our island! He lost both his life and his island! That's all very true: what more could he do? Like a Briton he died for his island!
The Spanish armada set out to invade--a, 'Twill sure, if they ever come nigh land. They couldn't do less than tuck up Queen Bess, And take their full swing on the island. O the poor queen of the island! The Dons came to plunder the island; But snug in her hive the queen was alive, And "buzz" was the word of the island.