There's a tumult in the distance, and a warsong in the air,
Where the foemen in their galleys, for another fight prepare,
For they whisper in the country, and they noise it in the town,
That the Wesley colours from the mast will soon be taken down.
Then, it's forward, boys, to battle—hear the bugle's thrilling tone,
With the Royal Purple, borne ahead, march onward, to your own;
With the Lion proudly passing, as the ensign flutters free;
Let the Lion keep the river, as the Lion keeps the sea.