THE ROVING DIES HARD                  Colcannon

Intro:
F C F . Dm . Bb . C .
F C F . Dm . C .

   F                           Bb        C
My name's John McKenzie, I'm a Master-at-arms.
  F                    Bb           C
I carry my sword and a shield on my shoulder.
     F                          Bb         F
I've fought every fight from Verdun to the Danube,
     Bb           F            C
None braver, none better, none bolder.
     Bb             C          F
I've stood with Montrose, and against him,
     Dm           C               F
I've battled with Swedes and with Danes,
         Dm                      Bb         F
And I've carried the Standard of many's the army
        Bb         F         C
Through many's the bloody campaign.
C...
But now as I sit in the firelight it seems
C...
There's distant horizons of a swordmaster's dreams,
        F
But the pull of the wine
          Bb            F            C
Brings an old soldier's dreams from afar,
                    Bb . . .
For the roving dies hard.
_______________________________

    Bb                   Eb         F
I'm Callum McLean, I'm a Trapper to trade,
         Bb                       Eb       F
And it's forty long years since I saw Tobermory.
        Bb                    Eb         Bb
Through Canada's forests I've carried my plaid,
        Eb               Bb          F
And the pine trees could tell you my story.
        Eb         F             Bb
But the travelling days they are over,
        Gm          Eb       Bb
And I'm thankful to still be alive,
         Gm                     Eb          Bb
For I've many's the kinsman who died on the hoax
       Eb         Bb          F
At the end of the bold 'Forty-five.
F...
I've an Indian lass now, I'll never decieve her,
F...
But there's nights when I'd up wi' my gun and I'd leave her
        Bb      
For the land, for the bear
        Eb          Bb          F
And the fox and the beaver I've loved,
                    Bb     Eb Bb F C .
For the roving dies hard.
_______________________________

    
My name's Robert Johnson, I'm a man of the Cloth.
I'll carry my Bible as long as I'm breathin'.
I'll teach the Lord's Gospel from Shanghai to Glasgow,
Where'er He saw fit to make heathens.
But now the Kirk's calling me homeward,
It's the Manse and the Elder for me,
But the sins of the Sessions may not be surpassed
By the sins of the South China Seas.
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     is scripture
 and the Word of the Lord,
For the roving dies hard.
_______________________________

    
My name's Willie Campbell, I'm a ship's Engineer.
I know every berth between Lisbon and Largo.
I've sweated mair diesel in 35 years
Than a big Tanker takes for a cargo.
And of good times I've always had plenty,
When the whiskey and women were wild,
For there's many's the wain wi' the red locks o' the Campbells
Who's ne'er seen the coast of Argyll.
But now as the freighters unload at the quay,
The sound of the engines is calling tae me,
And it sings me a song of the sun
 and the sea and the stars,
For the roving dies hard.
_______________________________

    
I'll tune up my fiddle and I'll rosin my bow,
I'll sing of the Clans and the clear crystal fountains.
I can tell you the road and the miles tae Dundee,
From the back of Alaska's wild mountains.
But my travelling days they are over,
And the next of the Rovers has come.
He'll take all the 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 dealt Scotsmen
 the wildest of cards,
For the roving dies hard.
_______________________________