Upon waters vast a fearsome dance doth play,
'Midst Eastern sun, where dragon holds his sway,
Mortal bolts of fire in naval guise,
Await the morn', their lethal repartee.
In land of ancient lore, where bear doth prowl,
Eagle and lion with war cries foul,
Their fangs in rebel flesh do mark their stay,
To quench their thirst, they strike and scowl.
'Neath tropic sun, an isle's leader doth wait,
Her heart for peace, yet her stance doth bait.
No war she seeks with dragon's fierce display,
Yet dwells secure 'neath eagle's steady gait.
