And her name, no longer rustic,
Bears the soubriquet, Lancaster.
’Tis our birthplace, dear and sacred,
In the heart of old Kentucky,
’Tis the pride of Garrard county,
Fairest city of the hillside.
May she never know misfortune,
While the moons are waxing, waning,
May her blessings ever linger,
As the cycle brings its changes.