His Majesty the King


There's a man in the Isle of England, he's the Lord of a vast Empire —
The son of a woman dear, and dead, the son of a noble sire.
A man who was born a Briton, born in the British hearts to dwell;
And they call him the King of England — but, he reigns in the West as well.


There's a man in the Isle of England, whose rule we are proud to own,
In the purple, and gold, and ermine, and the splendour of England's throne.
He has come to the heart of a nation too vast for the tongue to tell,
And they call him the King of England, but he's Lord of the North as well.


There's an Arm in the Isle of England, an Arm that is strong and grand,
It circles the world with a wealth of love outstretched from the Motherland.
'Tis the sword and shield of the children that over the oceans dwell —
'Tis the Arm of the King of England, but, 'tis the Arm of the East as well.


There's a man in the Isle of England, who holds in his kingly hand
The reigns of a power, great and good, but those reins are a silken strand.
And the South, in its silken harness, will learn in his love to dwell,
For the man who is King of England is the Lord of the South as well.


And we of the North, East, South, and Westland, we'll battle, we'll dare, we'll do;
We will die for the King of England when the Empire wants us to.
Then cheer for the man in the British Isles till the ends of the earth shall ring,
For, as we fought for the Queen of England, we will fight for England's King.
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