Classic Poem

It was eight bells ringing,
— For the morning watch was done,
And the gunner's lads were singing
— As they polished every gun.
It was eight bells ringing,
And the gunner's lads were singing,
For the ship she rode a-swinging,
— As they polished every gun.

Oh! to see the linstock lighting,
— Temeraire! Temeraire!
Oh! to hear the round shot biting,
— Temeraire! Temeraire!
Oh! to see the linstock lighting,
And to hear the round shot biting,
For we're all in love with fighting
— On the Fighting Temeraire.

It was noontide ringing,
— And the battle just begun,
When the ship her way was winging,
— As they loaded every gun,
It was noontide ringing,
When the ship her way was winging,
And the gunner's lads were singing,
— As they loaded every gun.

There'll be many grim and gory,
— Temeraire! Temeraire!
There'll be few to tell the story,
— Temeraire! Temeraire!
There'll be many grim and gory,
There'll be few to tell the story,
But we'll all be one in glory
— With the Fighting Temeraire.

There's a far bell ringing
— At the setting of the sun,
And a phantom voice is singing
— Of the great days done.
There's a far bell ringing,
And a phantom Voice is singing
Of renown for ever clinging
— To the great days done.

Now the sunset breezes shiver,
— Temeraire! Temeraire!
And she's fading down the river,
— Temeraire! Temeraire!
Now the sunset breezes shiver,
And she's fading down the river,
But in England's song for ever
— She's the Fighting Temeraire.