YE Mariners of England   That guard our native seas! Whose flag has braved a thousand years   The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again   To match another foe; And sweep through the deep,   While the stormy winds do blow! While the battle rages loud and long   And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirits of your fathers   Shall start from every wave— For the deck it was their field of fame,   And Ocean was their grave: Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell   Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep,   While the stormy winds do blow! While the battle rages loud and long   And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,   No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,   Her home is on the deep. The thunders from her native oak   She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore,   When the stormy winds do blow! When the battle rages loud and long,   And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England   Shall yet terrific burn; Till danger's troubled night depart   And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!   Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name,   When the storm has ceased to blow! When the fiery fight is heard no more,   And the storm has ceased to blow.