Nothing Like Grog/Rule, Britannia
RULE, BRITANNIA.
When Britain, first, at Heav'n's command,
Arose from out the azure main,
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter, the charter of the
land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:
Rule, Britannia, Britannia rule the waves
Britons never shall be slaves.
The nations, (not so blest as thee),
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall;
Whilst thou shalt flourish—shalt flourish great and free.
The dread and envy of them all.
Rule, Britannia, &c.
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that—loud blast that
tears the skies,
Serves but to root the native oak.
Rule, Britannia, &c.
The haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame.
All their attempts to bend thee down,
All their attempts to bend thee down.
Will but arouse thy—arouse thy gen’rous flame,
But work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia, &c.
To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
And thine shall be the—shall be the subject main;
And ev'ry shore it circles, thine.
Rule, Britannia, &c.
The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coasts repair;
Shall to thy happy coasts repair;
Blest isle! with matchless—with matchless beauty crown’d,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
Rule, Britannia, &c.