The Noble Flag
It’s only a small bit of bunting,
It’s only an old coloured rag,
Yet thousands have died for it’s honour
And shed their best blood for the flag.
It’s charged with the cross of St. Andrew,
Which, of old, Scotland’s heroes has led;
It carries the cross of St. Patrick,
For which Ireland’s bravest have bled.
Joined with these is our old England ensign,
St. George’s red cross on white field,
Round which, from King Richard to Wellington,
Britons conquer or die, but n’er yield.
It flutters triumphant o’er ocean,
As free as the winds and the waves;
And bondsmen from shackles unloosened
‘Neath it’s shadows no longer are slaves.
It floats over Cyprus and Malta,
O’er Canada, the Indies, Hong Kong;
And Britons, where’er their flag’s flying,
Claim the right to which Britons belong.
We hoist it to show our devotion
To our Queen, to our country and laws;
It’s the outward and visible emblem
Of advancement and liberty’s cause.
You may say it’s a bit of old bunting,
You may call it an old coloured rag;
But freedom has made it majestic,
And time has ennobled our Flag.
Three crosses in concord blended,
The banner of Britain’s might,
But the central gem of the ensign fair
Is the cross of the dauntless knight!