Thomas Osborne Davis

My Land

I.

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.