My Own Native Land

AUNER’S PRINTING OFFICE, 110 N. TENTH ST.,ab ARCH

My Own Native Land.

I’ve roamed over mountain, I’ve crossed over flood,
I’ve traversed the wave rolling sand;
Though the fields were as green, and the moon shone
as bright,
Yet it was not my own Native Land.
No no, no, no, no, no. No, no, no, no, no, no,
Though the fields were as green, and the moon shone
as bright,
Yet it was not my own Native Land,

The right hand of friendship, how oft have I grasped,
And bright eyes have smiled and looked bland;
Yet happier far were the hours that I passed,
In the West—in my own Native Land.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,
Yet happier far were the hours that I passed,
In the West—in my own Native Land.

Then hail! dear Columbia, the Land that we love,
Where flourishes Liberty’s tree;
The birthplace of Freedom, our own Native Home,
’Tis the land, tis the land of the free!
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,
The birthplace of Freedom, our own Native Home,
’Tis the land, ’tis the land of the free!

A. W. AUNER SONG PUBLISHER, 110 N. 10TH St., ab Arch. Philadelphia.

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