MY LAND.

She is a rich and rare land;

Oh! she's a fresh and fair land;

She is a dear and rare land —

This native land of mine.

No men than her's are braver —

Her women's hearts ne'er waver;

I'd freely die to save her,

And think my lot divine.

She's not a dull or cold land;

No! she's a warm and bold land;

Oh! she's a true and old land —

This native land of mine.

Could beauty ever guard her,

And virtue still reward her,

No foe would cross her border —

No friend within it pine!

Oh! she's a fresh and fair land;

Oh! she's a true and rare land;

Yes! she's a rare and fair land —

This native land of mine.