We o’er the ocean roam, Sir,
In every clime we find a port,
In every port a home, Sir.
Yeo, yeo, yeo—&c. &c.
III.
But, when our Country’s foes are nigh,
Each hastens to his gun, Sir,
We make the boasting Frenchmen fly,
And bang the haughty Don, Sir.
Yeo, yeo, yeo—&c. &c.