You nations all whose harbours ring the edge of my Northern sea,
At peace or war, when you hear my voice you shall know no Lord but me."
Then into the wind in a cloud of foam and sheets of rattling spray,
Head to the bleak and breaking seas in dingy black and grey,
Taking it every lurch and roll in tons of icy green
Came out to her two-year-old patrol—an English submarine.
The voice of the wind rose up and howled through squalls of driving white:
"You'll know my power, you English craft, before you make the Bight;
I rule—I rule this Northern Sea, that I raise and break to foam.