A British tar is a soaring soul,

As free as a mountain bird,

His energetic fist should be ready to resist

A dictatorial word.

His nose should pant

and his lip should curl,

His cheeks should flame

and his brow should furl,

His bosom should heave

and his heart should glow,

And his fist be ever ready

for a knock-down blow.

His eyes should flash with an inborn fire,

His brow with scorn be wrung;

He never should bow down

to a domineering frown,

Or the tang of a tyrant tongue.

His foot should stamp, and his throat should growl,

His hair should twirl, and his face should scowl;

His eyes should flash, and his breast protrude,

And this should be his customary attitude.