The line of red are lines of blood, nobly and unselfishly shed by
men who loved the liberty of their fellowmen more than they loved
their fellowmen more than they lover their own lives and
fortunes. God forbid that we would have to use the blood of
America to freshen the color of the flag. But if it should ever
be necessary, that flag will be colored once more, and in being
colored will be glorified and purified.
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Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree--
It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.
Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree--
It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.
The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield
and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all read more
The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield
and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over
this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when
again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of
our nature.
I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
Ole times dar am not forgotten,
Look-a-way! Look-a-way! read more
I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
Ole times dar am not forgotten,
Look-a-way! Look-a-way! Look-a-way, Dixie Land!
. . . .
Den I wish I was in Dixie, Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand
To lib and die in Dixie.
Put none but Americans on guard tonight.
Put none but Americans on guard tonight.
To preserve the life of citizens, is the greatest virtue in the
father of his country.
[Lat., Servare read more
To preserve the life of citizens, is the greatest virtue in the
father of his country.
[Lat., Servare cives, major est virtus patriae patri.]
Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.
Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.
Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations, may she
always be in the right; but our country, right read more
Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations, may she
always be in the right; but our country, right or wrong.
They know no country, own no lord,
Their home the camp, their law the sword.
They know no country, own no lord,
Their home the camp, their law the sword.
Hands across the sea,
Feet on English ground,
The old blood is bold blood, the wide world read more
Hands across the sea,
Feet on English ground,
The old blood is bold blood, the wide world round.
