The Rovin' Dies Hard

My name's John Mackenzie, I'm a master-at-arms I carry my sword and my shield on my shoulder I've fought every fight from the Don to the Danube None braver, none better, none bolder I've stood with Montrose and against him I've battled with Swedes and with 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 to 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 Calum McLean, I'm a trapper to trade And it's forty long years since I saw Tobermory Through Canada's forests I've carried my blade And its pine trees could tell you my story Now my wandering days they are over But 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 with 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 my Bible as long as I'm breathing I've preached the Lord's Gospel from Shanghai to Glasgow Where'er He saw fit to make heathens But now the Kirk's calling me homewards It's the manse and the elders for me But the sins of the Session will no' be so far From the sins of the South China Seas And perhaps it's the voice of the Devil I've heard For it speaks of the clipper ships flying like birds Till a man's only comfort is Scripture and the word of the Lord For the rovin' dies hard My name's Willie Campbell, I'm a ship's engineer And I know every berth between Lisbon and Largo I've sweated more diesel in thirty-five years Than a big tanker takes for a cargo Of the good times I've always had plenty When the whisky and the women were wild And there's many's the wean wi' the red locks o' the Campbells Who's ne'er seen the coast of Argyll But now as the freighters unload on the quay The sound of the engines is calling to 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, and I've rosined my bow And I've sung of the clans and the clear crystal fountains I can tell you the road and the miles frae Dundee To the back of Alaska's wild mountains And when my travelling days they are over And the next of the rovers has come He'll take all my songs and he'll sing them again To the beat of a different drum And if ever 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's dealt Scotland the wildest of cards For the rovin' dies hard