Classic Poem

Some years of late, in 'Eighty-Eight, as I do well remember-a,
It was, some say, the nineteenth of May, and some say of September-a,

The Spanish train launch'd forth amain, with many a fine bravado,
Their (as they thought, but it prov'd nought) invincible Armado.

There was a little man, that dwelt in Spain, that shot well in a gun-a,
Sir Pedro hight, as black a wight as the Knight of the Sun-a.

King Philip made him Admiral, and bade him not to stay-a,
But to destroy both man and boy, and so to come away-a.

Their navy was well victualled, with bisket, pease, and bacon;
They brought two ships well fraught with whips; but I think they were mistaken.

Their men were young, munition strong, and to do us more harm-a,
They thought it meet, to join their fleet all with the Prince of Parma.

They coasted round about our land, and so came in by Dover,
But we had men set on 'em then, and threw the rascals over.

The Queen was then at Tilbury: what could we more desire-a?
Sir Francis Drake, for her sweet sake, did set 'em all on fire-a.

Away they ran, by sea and land, so that one man slew three score-a;
And had not they all run away, o' my soul! we had kill'd more-a.

Then let them neither brag nor boast, for if they come again-a,
Let 'em take heed, they do not speed as they did they know when-a!