The Rovin' Dies Hard

My name's John McKenzie, I'm a master-at-arms
And I carry my sword and my shield on my shoulder
I've fought every fight frae the Don tae Danube
None braver, none better, none bolder
I've stood wi' Montrose and against him
I've battled wi' Swedes and wi' Danes
And I've carried the standard of many's the army
Through many's the bloody campaign
But now as I sit in the firelight it seems
There's a distant horizon tae the sword buckle's gleam
Till a pull at the wine brings an old soldier's dream from afar
For the Rovin' dies hard

I'm Callum McLean, I'm a trapper to trade
And its forty long years since I saw Tobermory
Through Canada's forests I've carried ma plaid
And her pine trees can tell you my story
But my wanderin' days they are over
And I'm thankful to still be alive
For I've many's the kinsman who died in the hulks
At the end of the bold Forty-Five
I've an Indian lass now I'll never deceive her
But there's nights when I'd up wi' my gun and I'd leave her
For the land where the bear, and the fox, and the beaver are lord
For the rovin' dies hard

My name's Robert Johnston, I'm a man of the cloth
And I'll carry ma Bible as long as I'm breathing
I've preached the Lord's Gospel from Shanghai tae Glasgow
Where'er He saw fit to make heathens
But now the Kirk's callin' me homewards
It's the manse and the elders for me
But the sins of the Session will no' be sae far
Frae the sins of the South China Sea
And perhaps it's the voice of the Devil I've heard
For it speaks of the clipper ships flyin' like birds
Till a man's only comfort is Scripture and the word of the Lord
For the rovin' dies hard

My names Willie Campbell I'm a ship's engineer
And I know every berth between Lisbon and Largo
I've sweated mare diesel in thirty-five years
Than a big tanker takes for a cargo
O' the good times I've always had plenty
Where the whisky and the woman were wild
And there's manys the wean wi' the red locks o' the Campbells
That's ne'er seen the coast o' Argyll
But now as the freighters unload on the quay
The sound o' the engines is calling tae me
And it sings me a song of the sun and the sea and the stars
For the rovin' dies hard

I've tuned up my fiddle, I've rosined my bow
I've sung of the clans, and the clear crystal fountains
I can tell you the road and the miles tae Dundee
Tae the back of Alaska's wild mountains
And when all of my wandering is over
And the next o' the rovers will come
And he'll take all the songs and he"ll sing them again
Tae the beat of a different drum
And whenever I'm asked why the Scots are beguiled
I'll lift up my glass in a health and I'll smile
And I'll tell them that fortune dealt Scotland the wildest of cards
For the rovin' dies hard