Nearer the muttering thunders roll,
Blacker and heavier frowns the sky,-
Yet our dauntless English soul
Faces the storm with a steady eye;
Hands are strong, where hearts are stout,
Our rifles are ready - Look out!

No one wishes the storm to roll here,
No one cares such a devil to raise;
And in brotherhood, not in fear,
Only for peace an Englishman prays;
Yet he may shout in the midst of the rout,
Our rifles are ready - Look out!

Keep to your own like an honest man,
And here's our hand, and here's our heart;
Let the world see how wisely you can
Play to the end a right neighbourly part;
But, if mischief is creeping about,
Our rifles are ready - Look out!

No defiance is on our lips,
Nothing but kindliness greets you here;
Still, in the storm our dolphin ships
Round the Eddystone dart and steer;
And on shore, no doubt, no doubt,
Our rifles are ready - Look out!

Not defiance, but only defence
Hold we forth for humanity's sake;
And, with the help of Omnipotence,
We shall stand when the mountains quake,-
Only in Him our hearts are stout,
Our rifles are ready - Look out!