II.
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.
III.
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.
II.
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.
III.
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.