Where the Cape frowns out o'er the waters,
Staunchly she takes her stand,
With the flag that the English follow
Held firm in her upraised hand.
High o'er the land it flutters,
Unfurled in the breaking dawn;
Flame-bright in her right hand glitters
The sword that is always drawn.

Beneath her upon the cliff-side
Shatter the waves in spray.
But the foes that strike at her stronghold
Are not less vain than they.
At sea draws back from the cliff-side,
Where the dark caves gloomy yawn,
They gather their shattered squadrons
From the sword that is always drawn!

Forward, O queen of the Ocean,
Leave nought of thy task undone:
For thro' toil and trouble and warfare
Was our English Empire won.
Go on thy way and conquer,
Scorning to cringe and fawn,
Defending thine own broad banner
With the sword that is always drawn!