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My Land.
by Thomas Osborne DavisI.
She is a rich and rare land;
Oh! she's a fresh and fair land;
She is a dear and rare 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.
IV.
Could beauty ever guard her,
And virtue still reward her,
No foe would cross her border--
No friend within it pine!
V.
Oh! she's a fresh and fair land;
Oh! she's a true and rare land;
Yes! she's a rare and fair land--
This native land of mine.