There’ll be many grim and gory,
      Temeraire!  Temeraire! 
    There’ll be few to tell the story,
      Temeraire!  Temeraire!

    There’ll be many grim and gory,
      There’ll be few to tell the story,
    But we’ll all be one in glory
      With the Fighting Temeraire.

There’s a far bell ringing
  At the setting of the sun,
And a phantom voice is singing
  Of the great days done. 
There’s a far bell ringing,
And a phantom voice is singing
Of renown for ever clinging
  To the great days done.

    Now the sunset breezes shiver,
      Temeraire!  Temeraire! 
    And she’s fading down the river,
      Temeraire!  Temeraire!

    Now the sunset’s breezes shiver,
      And she’s fading down the river,
    But in England’s song for ever
      She’s the Fighting Temeraire.

Admirals All

Effingham, Grenville, Raleigh, Drake,
  Here’s to the bold and free! 
Benbow, Collingwood, Byron, Blake,
  Hail to the Kings of the Sea! 
Admirals all, for England’s sake,
  Honour be yours and fame! 
And honour, as long as waves shall break,
  To Nelson’s peerless name!

    Admirals all, for England’s sake,
      Honour be yours and fame! 
    And honour, as long as waves shall break,
      To Nelson’s peerless name!

Essex was fretting in Cadiz Bay
  With the galleons fair in sight;
Howard at last must give him his way,
  And the word was passed to fight. 
Never was schoolboy gayer than he,
  Since holidays first began: 
He tossed his bonnet to wind and sea,
  And under the guns he ran.

Drake nor devil nor Spaniard feared,
  Their cities he put to the sack;
He singed his Catholic Majesty’s beard,
  And harried his ships to wrack. 
He was playing at Plymouth a rubber of bowls
  When the great Armada came;
But he said, “They must wait their turn, good souls,”
  And he stooped and finished the game.

Fifteen sail were the Dutchmen bold,
  Duncan he had but two;
But he anchored them fast where the Texel shoaled,
  And his colours aloft he flew. 
“I’ve taken the depth to a fathom,” he cried,
  “And I’ll sink with a right good will: 
For I know when we’re all of us under the tide
  My flag will be fluttering still.”

Splinters were flying above, below,
  When Nelson sailed the Sound: 
“Mark you, I wouldn’t be elsewhere now,”
  Said he, “for a thousand pound!”
The Admiral’s signal bade him fly
  But he wickedly wagged his head: 
He clapped the glass to his sightless eye,
  And “I’m damned if I see it!” he said.

Admirals all, they said their say
  (The echoes are ringing still). 
Admirals all, they went their way
  To the haven under the hill. 
But they left us a kingdom none can take,
  The realm of the circling sea,
To be ruled by the rightful sons of Blake,
  And the Rodneys yet to be.