TOO proud to fight? I'm not so sure—our skipper now and then

Has lectured to us on patrol on foreign ships and men,

And other nation's submarines, when cruising round the Bight;

And 'seems to me—when they begin—the Yankee chaps can fight.

Why, if I was in the army (which I ain't—and no regrets)

And had my pick of Generals—from London's latest pets,

To Hannibal and Wellington—to follow whom I chose,

I wouldn't think about it long—I'd give the job to those

Who fought across a continent for three long years and more

(I bet the neutral papers didn't say in 'sixty-four

Of Jackson, Sherman, Lee and Grant—"The Yanks can only shout"—

That lot was somewhere near the front when pluck was handed out);

But what the Skipper said was this; "There's only been but one

Successful submarine attack before this war begun,

And it wasn't on a liner on the easy German plan,

But on a well-found man-of-war, and Dixon was the man

Who showed us how to do the trick, a tip for me and you,

And I'd like to keep the standard up of Dixon and his crew,

For they hadn't got a submarine that cost a hundred thou',

But a leaky little biscuit-box, and stuck upon her bow

A spar torpedo like a mine, and they and Dixon knew

That if they sank the enemy they'd sink the David too.

She'd drowned a crew or two before—they dredged her up again,

And manned and pushed her off to sea.—My oath, it's pretty plain

They had some guts to give away, that tried another trip

In a craft they knew was rather more a coffin than a ship;

And they carried out a good attack, and did it very well.

As a model for the future, why, it beats the books to Hell,

A tradition for the U.S.A., and, yes—for England too;

For they were men with English names, and kin to me and you,

And I'd like to claim an ancestor with Dixon when he died

At the bottom of the river at the Housatonic's side."