With submarines and aereyplanes an’ all;
But when our Battle Squadron come they run so ruddy fast
We ’adn’t time to open up the ball.
And yet I can’t make out the way they do it,
I’m speaking now o’ thirteen months ago,
They come out for to beat us, but when the beggars meet us,
They scuttle back before they’ve struck a blow.
But, Grandpa, don’t forget, you’ aven’t seen the British Fleet,
Nor been aboard a Dreadnought in your life,
And a modern Battle Squadron is a nasty thing to meet,