But they're thundering ugly, your new Iron Walls,
And when a big fight comes,—well, look out for squalls.
This playing at battle is all very grand,
But I think twelve-inch metal much fitter for land.
Wood's the stuff for the sea; that's a point in my credo.
That "mount" of yours safe? I don't think a torpedo
A patch on a Sea-horse, or even a Triton.
Vulcan. All right! 'tisn't charged, so there's nothing to frighten.
Things are not now done in your toasting-fork way.
Neptune. Humph! My trident enabled Britannia to sway