‘Come, if ye dare, out trumpets sound
Come, if ye dare, the foes rebound
We come, we come, we come, we come,
Says the double, double, double beat of the thundering drum.
Now they charge on amain,
Now they rally again
The Gods from above the mad labour behold
And pity mankind, that will perish for gold.
The fainting Saxons quit their ground
Their trumpets languishing in the sound,
They fly, they fly, they fly, they fly,
Victoria, Victoria the bold Britons cry.
Now the victory is won,
To the Plunder we run;
We return to our lasses like fortunate traders
Triumphant with spoils of the vanquished invaders.’