FATHER.
It is the voice of cannonry,
The glad shouts of the free;
This is a day of memory,
'Tis FREEDOM'S JUBILEE!
SON.
I wish that I was now a man,
I'd free my country too,
And cheer as loudly as the rest;
But, father, why don't you?
FATHER.
I'm getting old and weak; but still
My heart is big with joy;
I've witnessed many a day like this,
Shout you aloud, my boy!
SON.
| (oo) |
HURRAH, FOR FREEDOM'S JUBILEE, |
|
God bless our native land! | |
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And may I live to hold the boon | |
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Of freedom in my hand. |
FATHER.
Well done, my boy, grow up, and love
The land that gave you birth,—
A land where Freedom loves to dwell,—
A paradise on earth.