| Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922. | | | | Drake’s Drum | | By Sir Henry John Newbolt (1862–1938) |
| | | DRAKE he ’s in his hammock an’ a thousand mile away, | |
| (Capten, art tha sleepin’ there below?) | |
| Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay, | |
| An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe. | |
| Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships, | 5 |
| Wi’ sailor lads a-dancin’ heel-an’-toe, | |
| 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’ ruled the Devon seas, | |
| (Capten, art tha sleepin’ there below?), | 10 |
| Rovin’ tho’ his death fell, he went wi’ heart at ease, | |
| An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe. | |
| ‘Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore, | |
| Strike et when your powder ’s runnin’ low; | |
| If the Dons sight Devon, I’ll quit the port o’ Heaven, | 15 |
| An’ drum them up the Channel as we drumm’d them long ago.’ | |
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| 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, | |
| An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe. | 20 |
| Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound, | |
| Call him when ye sail to meet the foe; | |
| Where the old trade ’s plyin’ an’ the old flag flyin’ | |
| They shall find him ware an’ wakin’, as they found him long ago! | | | | |
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