From ''Songs, hymns, and psalms'' by Jonas Hanway, p24, 1783. :: listen to the tune (midi file)
'''''Hearts of Oak'''''
Come cheer up my Lads 'tis to Glory we stear, To add something more to this wonderfull Year; To Honour we call you not press you like Slaves, For who are so free as we Sons of the Waves: Heart of Oak are our Ships, Heart of Oak are our Men, We always are ready Steady Boys steady We'll Fight and we'll Triumph again and again.
We ne'er see our foes, but we wish them to stay, They never see us, but they wish us away' If they run, why we follow, and run them on shore, For if they won't fight us, we cannot do more. Heart of oak, &c.
They swear they'll invade us--these terrible foes! They frighten our women, our children, and beaus; But should they flat-bottoms in darkness get o'er, Still Britons they'll find to receive them on shore. Heart of oak, &c.
We'll still make them run, and we'll still make them sweat, In spite of the Devil and Brussels Gazette; Then cheer up, my lads, with one heart let us sing, Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen, and king. Heart of oak, &c.
From ''Songs, hymns, and psalms'', by Jonas Hanway, p25, 1783. :: listen to the tune (midi file)
'''''In Honour of Peace and the King'''''
On the white Cliffs of Albion see Fame where she stands And her shrill swelling Notes reach the Neighbouring Lands, Of the Natives free born and their Conquests she Sings, The happiest of Men with the greatest of Kings.
George the Third she proclaims, his bright glory repeats, His undeismay'd legions and powerful fleets; Whom nor castles nor rocks can from honour retard, Since e'en death for their king they with scorn disregard.
"His just right to affect hath the king amply try'd, "Nor his wisdom or strength can opponents abide; "Then no longer in rage let dread thunder be hurl'd, "But leave him to me, and give peace to the world!"
But see! a cloud bursts, and an angel appears! Tis 'Peace', lovely virgin, dissolved in tears! "Stay, Fame" (cry'd the maid) is't not time to give o'er, "With sieges and famine, explosions and gore!"
'Tis done, and great George is to mercy inclin'd; The blest word is gone forth, for the good of mankind; 'Tis the act of a Briton to beat, then to spare, And our king is a Briton--deny it who dare.
From ''The musical repository'', pp55-56, 1799. :: listen to the tune (midi file)
'''OLD ENGLAND O.'''
Huzza! my boys, for England O, My boys, huzza! for England O; Faction soon shall prostrate lie, And the wreaths of victory shall adorn the brow of Old England O. Faction soon shall prostrate lie, And the wreaths of victory Shall adorn the brow of Old England O.
Old Neptune's pride is England O, Old Nepture's pride is England O, To her mild and equal reign, He resign'd the liquid main, And the queen of the seas is Old England O. To her mild, &c.
We dearly love Old England O, We dearly love Old England O; Let us then our rights maintain, And in steady faith remain, The loyal sons of Old England O. Let us then, &c.
For shame! ye sons of England O, Ye bastard sons of England O, To forge the trait'rous pike and lance, And court the smiles of mad'ning France, All intent on the ruin of England O. To forge, &c.
Reflect, ye sons of England O, Deluded sons of England O, Is not your peace and safety fled? Where doth freedom rest her head, But secure in the bosom of England O? Is not, &c.
Then why fall out with England O? Or why dispute with England O? Is she not a parent kind? Then give resentment to the wind, And again be the friends of Old England O. Is she not, &c.
Your glasses fill to England O, A bumper charge to England O; Long may she give the nations peace, And may her empire never cease, Nor French mobs be thought friends of Old England O. Long may, &c.
From ''Songs, hymns, and psalms'', by Jonas Hanway, p17, 1783. :: listen to the tune (midi file)
'''''Roast Beef'''''
While mighty roast Beef is the Englishmans Food, It enobles our Veins and enriches our Blood, Our Sailors are brave and our Statesmen are good, O the roast Beef of old England And O the old English roast Beef.
Our fathers of old, were robust, stout, and strong, And oft kept open house with mirth all day long, Which made their plump tenants rejoice in this song: O the roast beef, &c.
In those days, if fleets did presume on the main, They seldom or never return'd back again; As witness, the vaunted Armada of Spain: O the roast beef, &c.
When good Queen Elizabeth sat on the throne, No coffee, or tea, nor such slip-slops were known; The world was in terror if e'er she did frown: O the roast beef, &c.
And still we have stomachs to eat and to fight, And, when wrongs are a-cooking, to do ourselves right; And now, my good friends, I wish you good night; O the roast beef, &c.
From ''Songs, hymns, and psalms'' by Jonas Hanway, song 27, 1783. :: listen to the tune (midi file)
'''''Rule Britannia'''''
When Britain first at Heav'ns Command, arose from the Azure Main, arose arose from out the Azure Main; This was the Charter, the Charter of the Land, and Guardian Angels sing this Strain, Rule Britannia, Britannia Rule the Waves, Britons never will be Slaves.
The nations, not so blest as thee, Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall, Must, in, &c. Whilst thou shalt flourish, shalt flourish great and free, The dread and envy of them all. Rule, Britannia, &c.
Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke, More dreadful, &c. As the loud blast, that tears the skies, Serves but to root thy native oak. Rule, Britannia, &c.
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame, All their attempts to bend thee down, All their, &c. Will but arouse, arouse they gen'rous flame, And work their woe, and thy renown. Rule, Britannia, &c.
To thee belongs the rural reign; Thy cities shall with commerce shine, Thy cities, &c. All thine shall be, shall be the subject main, And ev'ry shore it circles, thine. Rule, Britannia, &c.
The Muses, still with Freedom found, Shall to thy happy coast repair, Shall to, &c. Blest Isle! with beauties, with matchless beauties crown'd, Rule, Britannia, &c.
From ''The musical repository'', pp18-21, 1799. :: listen to the tune (midi file)
'''THE SNUG LITTLE ISLAND.'''
Daddy Neptune one day to Freedom did say, If ever I liv'd upon dry land, The spot I shou'd hit on would be little Britain, Says Freedom, Why that's my own island. Oh! what a snug little island, A right little tight little island; All the globe round, none can be found So happy as this little island.
Julius Cesar the Roman, who yielded to no man, Came by water, he couldn't come by land; And Dane, Pict, and Saxon their homes turn'd their hacks on, And all for the sake of our island. Oh what a snug little island, They'd all have a touch at the island; Some were shot dead,--some of them fled, And some staid to live in the island.
Then a very great war-man, call'd Billy the Norman, Cried, D--n it, I never liked my land, It wou;d 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 managed 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 the island.
Then the Spanish Armada set out to invade a, Quite sure, if they ever came nigh land, They cou'dn't do less than tuck up Queen Bess, And take their full swing in the island. Oh the poor queen and the island, The drones came to plunder the island; But snug in her hive--the queen was alive, And buz was the word at the island.
The proud puff'd up cakes thought to make ducks and drake Of our wealth, but they scarcely could spy land, E'er Drake had the luck to make their pride duck, And stoop to the lads of the island. Huzza! for the lads of the island; Devil or Don,--let 'en 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, And I wonder much less they have met no success, For why should we give up our island? Oh '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 hitherto kept tune, In each saying, This shall be my land, Shou'd the army of England, or all they cou'd bring, land, We'd show 'em some play for the island; We'd fight for our right to the island, We'd give 'em enough of the island; Frenchmen shou'd just--bite at our dust, But not a bit more of the island.