'Twas the tin-protected cruisers—How they pound!
(Sweet sound!)
They that saved us being losers—Rah! the tin-protected cruisers!
How their rattling Maxims pound, pound, pound!
Their draft is a foot and a half
And a knot and a half is their speed,
Their bows are as blunt as the stern of a punt,
And their engines are wonders, indeed.
Their rudders are always on strike,
Their bunkers hold two or three tons,