Our native song! our native song!Oh! where is he who loves it not?The spell it holds is deep and strong,Where\u27er we go, whate\u27er our lot,Let other music greet our earWith thrilling fire or dulcet tone;We speak to praise, we pause to hear,But yet oh! yet \u27tis not our own!The Anthem chant, the Ballad wild,The notes that we remember longThe theme we sing with lisping tongue\u27Tis this we love our native song!Our native song!Our native song!The theme we sing with lisping tongue \u27Tis this we love our native song!
The one who bears the felon\u27s brand,With moody brow and darken\u27d name,Thrust meanly from his father land,To languish out a life of shame;Oh! let him hear some simple strainSome lay his mother taught her boyHe\u27\u27ll feel the charm, and dream againOf home, of innocence, and joy!The sigh will burst, the drops will start, And all of virtue buries longThe best, the purest in his heart,Is waken\u27d by his native song.Our native song!Our native song!The theme we sing with lisping tongue \u27Tis this we love our native song!
Self exil\u27d from our place of birth,To climes more fragrant, bright, and gay,The mem\u27ry of our own fair earthMay chance awhile to fade away:But should some minstrel echo fall,Of chords that breathe Columbia\u27s fame,Our souls will burn, our spirits will yearn,True to the land we love and claim.The high! the low! in weal or woe,Be sure there\u27s something coldly wrongAbout the heart that does not glowTo hear its own, its native song. Our native song!Our native song!The theme we sing with lisping tongue,\u27Tis this we love our native song
