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Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to read more
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our read more
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee,--are all with thee!
My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy read more
My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my read more
Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
He made all countries where he came his own.
He made all countries where he came his own.
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and read more
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing.
To wander along by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion
He sang the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.
Our country is wherever we are well off.
[Lat., Patria est, ubicunque est bene.]
Our country is wherever we are well off.
[Lat., Patria est, ubicunque est bene.]
