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Song Of The American Girl.

May 23, 2010

—John H. Hewitt.

OUR hearts are with our native land.
Our song is for her glory;
Her warrior’s wreath is in our hand,
Our lips breathe out her story.
Her lofty hills and valleys green
Are smiling bright before us,
And like a rainbow sign is seen,
Her proud flag waving o’er us.
And there are smiles upon our lips
For those who meet her foemen,
For Glory’s star knows no eclipse
When smiled upon by woman.
For those who brave the mighty deep
And scorn the threat of danger
We’ve smiles to cheer—and tears to weep,
For every ocean ranger.
Our hearts are with our native land,
Our song is for her freedom;
Our prayers are for the gallant band
Who strike where honor’ll lead ‘em.
We love the taintless air we breathe,
‘Tis Freedom’s endless dower:
We’ll twine for him a fadeless wreath
Who scorns a tyrant’s power.
They tell of France’s beauties rare,
Of Italy’s proud daughters;
Of Scotland’s lassies—England’s fair,
And nymphs of Shannon’s waters;
We heed not all their boasted charms,
Though lords around them hover—
Our glory lies in Freedom’s arms—
A Freeman for a lover!



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