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 Of traitors they manag’d to buy land

By Dane, Saxon, or Pict,

We had never been lick’d,

Had we stuck to the king of the Island

Then let us stand firm to the Island,

The right little, tight little Island.

The Spanish armadas,

Set out to invade us,

And swore that if e’er they came nigh land,

They could not do less

Than hang up Queen Bess,

And kick up a dust in the Island.

O the poor Queen of the Island!

The dons would have plundered the Island.

Those proud puff’d up rakes

Thought to make ducks and drakes

Of our wealth; but before they could spy land,

Our Drake had the luck

To make their pride duck,

And stoop to the boys of the Island,

Huzza for the tars of the Island,

Of the right little, tight little Island.

Now I don’t wonder much

That the French and the Dutch

Have since been oft tempted to try land,

And I wonder much less

They have met no success,

For why should we give ’em the Island?

Pray i'n’t it our own little Island?

A nice little, tight little Island.