| From the streets of old Victoria to fair old Mabou town
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| From Portage to Spadina listen closely for the sound
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| A voice still echoes softly through the rivers and the plains
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| So don’t you dare stop listening and don’t forget his name
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| Arise and be merry
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| And sing out while you can
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| The world will never see the likes
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| Of dear old Stan
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| The Yanks have Woodie Guthrie, The British Ralph McTell
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| The Celts have got the Corries, aye and Ronnie Drew as well
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| Adge Cuter sings of cider out in the west country
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| But I am a Canadian, and so I say to thee
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| Arise and be merry
|
| And sing out while you can
|
| The world will never see the likes
|
| Of dear old Stan
|
| When I was just a nipper bouncing on my mummy’s knee
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| ‘twas Harris and the Mare me boys she sweetly sang to me
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| And as I closed my eyes beneath the Northern moon so pale
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| I dreamed I was the Captain standing on the Nightingale
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| Arise and be merry
|
| And sing out while you can
|
| The world will never see the likes
|
| Of dear old Stan
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| At the Wolf and Hound Vancouver, just for a pint or two
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| These blokes were singing Old Maui from the whales' point of view
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| I thought of old Stan Rogers and walked straight out the bar
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| And started up the Dreadnoughts, and here we bloody are
|
| Arise and be merry
|
| And sing out while you can
|
| The world will never see the likes
|
| Of dear old Stan
|
| Arise and be merry
|
| And sing out while you can
|
| The world will never see the likes
|
| Of dear old Stan |