Although tenfold its thunder;
In spite of wide Earth,
And in spite of deep Hell.
Where a Briton resolved,
Could a Gaul ever quell?
4.
Come, cannon and musquet,
Rain grapeshot and mortar!
We laugh at the rattling,
We ask for no quarter.
Although tenfold its thunder;
In spite of wide Earth,
And in spite of deep Hell.
Where a Briton resolved,
Could a Gaul ever quell?
4.
Come, cannon and musquet,
Rain grapeshot and mortar!
We laugh at the rattling,
We ask for no quarter.