I ACRES out of cultivation! British homesteads bleak and bare! Hear the cry of desolation! Hark the wail of blank despair! II Britain's navies once defeated Then the land were all in all! And her granaries depleted Would precipitate her fall. III Where is now the yeoman spirit? Where the manhood of our sires? Where the race that should inherit Some of their ancestral fires? IV Sunk within our crowded cities, With their phthisis-laden streets, Dregs of men! whom no one pities, Suckled at a drunkard's teats. V Back then to the land, my brothers! Let it glow in tilth and ear! To the land beyond all others Every British heart holds dear. VI Up then! share your brothers' burden, Drive the alien from your door! Let not others reap the guerdon That your fathers won of yore. VII Strong in her true sons' affection, Greater Britain shall arise— Powerful in her free election, Peace in her Imperial eyes. |