But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears,
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, row, to the British grenadiers.
Then Jove the god of thunder, and Mars the god of war,
Brave Neptune with his trident, Apollo in his car,
And all the gods celestial, descending from their spheres,
Behold with admiration the British grenadiers.
Whene’er we are commanded to storm the palisades,
Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand grenades;
We throw them from the glacis about the Frenchman’s ears,
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, row, for the British grenadiers.