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 And while Rob Roy is free to rove,

In summer's heat, and winter's snow,

The eagle he is lord above,

And Rob is lord below.

A famous man, &c.









Faintly as tolls the evening chime,

Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time,

Soon as the woods on shore look dim,

We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.

Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,

The rapids are near, and the day-light's past.