“Then I must lug you along with me,”
Says the saucy Arethusa.
The fight was off the Frenchman’s land;
We forced them back upon the strand;
For we fought till not a stick would stand
Of the gallant Arethusa.
And now we’ve driven the foe ashore,
Never to fight the Britons more,
Let each fill a glass
To his fav’rite lass,