The Rose of England - Nick Lowe

Taking nothing but his daddy's old bone grip knife
He traded but a little for the wayward life
A faint heart never won fair hand
So says the Rose of England
From a high on a hill came the clarion call
To game young men
Come one
Come all
Make muster 'gainst the foreign hand
That's raised to the Rose of England
For her feckless boy she did weep and wail
Saying
Lord have mercy where did I fail
Out my belly
Then pick up a gun
And fall for the Rose of England
God knows it's a cold outside
It's a fire by day and a freeze by night
I know it's a hell out there
How loud the mouth when the heart don't care
He's d**ned if he don't
And d**ned if he do
He'd die if he ever found out we knew
Hot potato
Drop it and run
Far from the Rose of England