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Sing we the Rose, The flower of flowers most glorious! Never a storm that blows Across our English sea But its heart breaks out wi' the Rose On England's flag victorious, The triumphing flag that flows Thro' the heavens of Liberty. Sing we the Rose, The flower of flowers most beautiful! Until the world shall end She blossometh year by year, Red with the blood that flows For England's sake, most dutiful, Wherefore now we bend Our hearts and knees to her. Sing we the Rose, The flower, the flower of war it is, Where deep i' the midnight gloom Its waves are the waves of the sea, And the glare of battle grows, And red over hulk and spar it is, Till the grim black broadsides bloom With our Rose of Victory. Sing we the Rose, The flower, the flower of love it is, Which lovers aye shall sing And nightingales proclaim; For O, the heaven that glows, That glows and burns above it is Freedom's perpetual Spring, Our England's faithful fame. Sing we the Rose, That Eastward still shall spread for us Upon the dawn's bright breast, Red leaves wi' the foam impearled; And onward ever flows Till eventide make red for us A Rose that sinks i' the West And surges round the world; Sing we the Rose! |