So long, so long will live the song
That thy lilting bugles sing,
As the warship rides down the deep sea tides,
Where the green foams white on her armored sides,
And the wind'ard gun-shields ring.
There be they who sing that the song will cease,
The song that thy sons began;
That the good old World will loll in peace,
In the bond of the Peace of Man.
They sing,—and clear 'twixt the notes we hear