And the water is red with the blood of the slain.
They rest for a time—now they sail in again!
Oh, woe, doom and woe, to the kingdom of Spain.
Their ships are ablaze, they are battered and rent,
By the death-dealing shells which our sailors have sent.
Not a man have we lost; yet the battle is o’er,
And their ships ride the bay of Manila no more.
Dark, silent and dark, on the face of the deep,
A ship glides in there; are the Spaniards asleep?
The channel is mined! Oh, rash sailors beware!