Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/248

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THE SHAN VAN VOCHT.
 We sank and burned, and we took them all,
With gold and spices laden,
 And our sweethearts each had a jolly, haul,
For each loved his English maiden;
 But as home we came, quoth our admiral,
I'm going, lads, aloft!
 And he died with a smile, but his dying word
Was, Fire away, boys! now board, her! soft!
 Fire away, boys! quoth he again,
For the sea, the sea, is England's,
 And England's shall remain.

The Shan Van Vocht.
O! the French are on the say,
 Says the Shan Van Vocht;
The French are on the say,
 Says the Shan Van Vocht!
O! the French are in the bay,
They'll be here without delay,
And the Orange will decay,
 Says the Shan Van Vocht.
  O! the French are in the bay,
  They'll be here by break of day,
  And the Orange will decay,
   Says the Shan Van Vocht.

And where will they have their camp?
 Says the Shan Van Vocht;
Where will they have their camp?
 Says the Shan Van Vocht;
On the Ourragh of Kildare;
The boys they will be there,
With their pikes in good repair,
 Says the Shan Van Vocht.
  To the Ourragh of Kildare
  The boys they will repair,
  And Lord Edward will be there,
   Says the Shan Van Vocht.

Then what will the yeomen do?
 Says the Shan Van Vocht;
What will the yeomen do?
 Says the Shan Van Vocht.

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