1 Come, one and all, around we stand;
Come join in swelling chorus;
And praise our goodly native land,
Our fatherland that bore us.
Where now we stand, our sires once stood;
Firm men were they, truehearted;
Say, lives there now a race as good,
Or have they all departed?

2 Old ocean bore from Mammom's marts,
The plant of Freedom hither;
It blossoms yet, and glads our hearts,
And we'll not let is wither;
From zeal for freedom and for truth,
No charms of wealth shall win us;
The hope and courage of our youth,
We'll ever keep within us.