Our country
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Men came from near and far, to brumby country.
At the big gumtree.
With their saddles and ropes.
Across every slope.
Men came from near and far, to cross the Blue Mountains.
Upon the guilded statue given to us by a true friend,
Rests a plague so very old by Emma Lazarus,
It states: "Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp," she cries,
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
America.
The land of the free, and the home of the brave.
Stolen from the Native Americans and built by the Africans
This nation was never truly free
This land of ours
So grand and beautiful
With trees, mountains, and flowers.
Never to be called dull.
Yet, it is not perfect.
There's violence, cruelty, and hate.
Let me ask, is it worth it?
This land of ours
So grand and beautiful
With trees, mountains, and flowers.
Never to be called dull.
Yet, it is not perfect.
There's violence, cruelty, and hate.
Let me ask, is it worth it?
This land of ours
So grand and beautiful
With trees, mountains, and flowers.
Never to be called dull.
Yet, it is not perfect.
There's violence, cruelty, and hate.
Let me ask, is it worth it?
