I Drake's Drum RAKE he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away, (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?), Slung atween the round-shot in Nombre An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin', He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago. Drake he was a Devon man, an' rüled the Devon seas, (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?), Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease, If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven, An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago." Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come, (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?), Slung atween the round-shot, listenin' for the drum, Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound, Where the old trade 's plyin' an' the old flag flyin' They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they found him long ago! Henry Newbolt. |