WHO fears to die? Who fears to die?
        Is there any here who fears to die
He shall find what he fears, and none shall grieve
        For the man who fears to die:
But the withering scorn of the many shall cleave
        To the man who fears to die.

Chorus.—Shout for England!
                 Ho! for England!
                 George for England!
                 Merry England!
                 England for aye!

The hollow at heart shall crouch forlorn,
He shall eat the bread of common scorn;
        It shall be steeped in the salt, salt tear,
        Shall be steeped in his own salt tear:
Far better, far better he never were born
        Than to shame merry England here.

Chorus.—Shout for England! etc.

There standeth our ancient enemy;
Hark! he shouteth—the ancient enemy!
        On the ridge of the hill his banners rise;
        They stream like fire in the skies;
Hold up the Lion of England on high
        Till it dazzle and blind his eyes.

Chorus.—Shout for England! etc.

Come along! we alone of the earth are free;
The child in our cradles is bolder than he;
        For where is the heart and strength of slaves?
        Oh! where is the strength of slaves?
He is weak! we are strong; he a slave, we are free;
        Come along! we will dig their graves.

Chorus.—Shout for England! etc.

There standeth our ancient enemy;
Will he dare to battle with the free?
        Spur along! spur amain! charge to the fight:
        Charge! charge to the fight!
Hold up the Lion of England on high!
        Shout for God and our right!

Chorus.—Shout for England! etc.