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 Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose, Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree; But my fause lover stole my rose, And left the sharpest thorn wi’ me

When Britain first at heaven’s command, Arose from out the azure main; This was the charter of our land, And guardian angels sung this strain Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves, Britons never will be slaves

The nations not so blest as thee, Must in their turn to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish great and free, The dread and envy of them all; Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves, Britons never will be slaves.