New song in praise of Burns/Ye Mariners of England

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.

Ye mariners of England,
⁠Who guard our native seas,
Who for these thousand years have brav’d
⁠The battle and the breeze;
Your glorious standard launch again,
⁠And match another foe.
And sweep through the deep,
⁠While the stormy winds do blow,
⁠While the stormy winds do blow,
⁠While the stormy winds do blow,
⁠While the battle rages long and loud,
⁠And the stormy tempests blow.

The spirits of your fathers,
⁠Will start from every wave;
The deck it was their field of fame,
⁠The ocean was their grave;
Where Blake, the boast of freedom, fought,
⁠Your manly hearts will glow,
As you sweep thro’ the deep,
⁠While the stormy winds do blow.
⁠While the stormy winds, &c.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,
⁠No towers along the steep;
Her march is o’er the mountain-wave,
⁠Her home is on the deep:
With thunder from her native oak,
⁠She queils the floods below,
As she sweeps through the deep,
⁠While the stormy winds do blow.
⁠While the stormy winds, &c.

The meteor-flag of England
⁠Must yet terrific burn,
Till the stormy night of war depart,
⁠And the star of peace return.
Then to our faithful manners
⁠The social can shall flow,
Who swept through the deep,
⁠While the stormy winds did blow,
⁠While the stormy winds, &c.