Hail, thy high historic story!
Hail, thy legends rife with glory!
Shrine where bends my willing heart,
Lovely France—la belle France!
Glorious France, how dear thou art!
We are now all fairly embarked on the tide of song, and Murray is again called upon. There is no affectation or false modesty in our circle, and he instantly complies.
Merrily row boys! merrily row boys!
Merrily, cheerily, row along!
And whilst our prow makes merry music,
We’ll too raise the song;