Redax 2: Timrå är original what so ever. Syftade inte på Premier League och engelsk klubbfotboll utan till England som nation och dess landslag. Pompa och ståt! Rule Britannia i Sydkraft Arena vore underbart och jag återkommer på temat med en ljudfil som underlag inom kort!
When Britain first at Heav'n's command Arose from out the azure main; This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sang this strain;
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves.
The nations not so blest as thee, Shall in their turns 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.
Still mor majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies, Serves but to root thy native oak.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves.
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame, All their attempts to bend thee down Will but arouse thy generous flame; But work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves.
To thee belongs the rural reign; They cities shall with commerce shine; All thine shall be the subject main, And every shore it circles thine.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves.
The Muses, still with freedom found, Shall to thy happy coast repair; Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crowned, And manly hearts to juide the fair.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves.
When Britain first at Heav'n's command
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain;
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.
The nations not so blest as thee,
Shall in their turns 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.
Still mor majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame,
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.
To thee belongs the rural reign;
They cities shall with commerce shine;
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.
The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair;
Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crowned,
And manly hearts to juide the fair.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.