The Englishman

                               Eliza Cook (1818-1889)

There’s a land that bears a world-known name, though it is but a little spot;

I say ‘tis first on the scroll of fame, and who shall say it is not?

Of the deathless ones who shine and live In Arms, In Arts, or Song;

The brightest the whole wide world can give, to that little land belong.

‘Tis the star of earth, deny it who can, the island home of an Englishman.

There’s a flag that waves o’er every sea no matter when or where;

And to treat that flag as ought but free Is more than the strongest dare.

For the lion-spirits that tread the deck have carried the palm of the brave;

And that flag may sink with a shot-torn wreck, but never floats over a slave.

Its honour is stainless, deny it who can; and this is the flag of an Englishman.

There’s a heart that leaps with burning glow, the wronged and the weak to defend;

And strikes as soon for a trampled foe, as it does for a soul-bound friend.

It nurtures a deep and honest love, It glows with faith and pride;

And yearns with the fondness of a dove, to the light of its own fireside.

‘Tis a rich rough gem, deny it who can, and this is the heart of an Englishman.

The Briton may traverse the pole or the zone and boldly claim his right;

For he calls such a vast domain his own, that the sun never sets on his might. 

Let the haughty stranger seek to know the place of his home and birth;

And a flush will pour from cheek to brow, while he tells of his native earth.

For a glorious charter, deny it who can, Is breathed in the words:

              “I’m an Englishman.”   

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