They never see us but they wish us away:
If they run, why, we follow, or run them ashore;
For if they won’t fight us, we cannot do more.
Hearts of oak, &c.
They swear they’ll invade us, these terrible foes!
They frighten our women, our children, and beaux;
But should their flat bottoms in darkness get o’er,
Still Britons they’ll find to receive them on shore.
Hearts of oak, &c.
Britannia, triumphant, her ships sweep the sea,