King Philip had vaunted his claims; <br />He had sworn for a year he would sack us; <br />With an army of heathenish names <br />He was coming to fagot and stack us; <br />Like the thieves of the sea he would track us, <br />And shatter our ships on the main; <br />But we had bold Neptune to back us-- <br />And where are the galleons of Spain? <br /> <br />His carackes were christened of dames <br />To the kirtles whereof he would tack us; <br />With his saints and his gilded stern-frames <br />He had thought like an egg shell to crack us; <br />Now Howard may get to his Flaccus, <br />And Drake to his Devon again, <br />And Hawkins bowl rubbers to Bacchus-- <br />For where are the galleons of Spain? <br /> <br />Let his Majesty hang to St. James <br />The axe that he whetted to hack us; <br />He must play at some lustier games <br />Or at sea he can hope to out-thwack us; <br />To his mines of Peru he would pack us <br />To tug at his bullet and chain; <br />Alas! that his Greatness should lack us!-- <br />But where are the galleons of Spain?<br /><br />Henry Austin Dobson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballad-of-the-armada/
