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!
And may I live to hold the boon
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.