When Britain first, at heaven’s command,
Arose from out the azure main,
Arose, arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter, the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain:
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Rule, Britannia!
Britannia, rule the waves
Britons never, never, never will be slaves.
Rule, Britannia!
Britannia, rule the waves.
Britons never, never, never will be slaves.
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Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke,
More dreadful, dreadful from each foreign stroke,
Loud blast above us, loud blast that tears the skies
Serves but to root thy native oak.
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Rule, Britannia!
Britannia, rule the waves.
Britons never, never, never will be slaves.
Rule, Britannia!
Britannia, rule the waves.
Britons never, never, never will be slaves.