Old Ironsides
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- AY, tear her tattered ensign down!
- Long has it waved on high,
- And many an eye has danced to see
- That banner in the sky;
- Beneath it rung the battle shout,
- And burst the cannon's roar;--
- The meteor of the ocean air
- Shall sweep the clouds no more.
- Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
- Where knelt the vanquished foe,
- When winds were hurrying o'er the flood,
- And waves were white below,
- No more shall feel the victor's tread,
- Or know the conquered knee;--
- The harpies of the shore shall pluck
- The eagle of the sea!
- Oh, better that her shattered hulk
- Should sink beneath the wave;
- Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
- And there should be her grave;
- Nail to the mast her holy flag,
- Set every threadbare sail,
- And give her to the god of storms,
- The lightning and the gale!
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