There a Dutch stands
As if guarding a fort
With his rough hands
For opening the port
...
The Stem Of Conflict
There a Dutch stands
As if guarding a fort
With his rough hands
For opening the port
This establishment
Allows the Dutch
To go to the Cape of Africa to make their dent
And escape the British clutch
The conflict has uprooted from the stem
Each day it grows, tall
Its petals creating a hem
The rupture that started it all
The Dutch do their best
To make the English stay away
To destroy the Crown's crest
So that they have a say
The competition in trading
Is full of cheap tricks
It is thick and won't be fading
With a quick treaty and will be filled with gun clicks
The English, they don't cooperate
They deny a treaty and cheat
Which the Dutch don't appreciate
Taking the spice islands of Molucca as a treat
All the Dutch desires
Is to have revenge be send
To the English and start up these fires
Across the open bend
The Dutch and the British, fighting
It cannot be kept at bay
On the ocean, what a sight
As the Dutch sail away