THIS SACRED LAND

On this sacred land,

Washed clean by Freedom's hands:

Those who lived, fought and died here --

Their spirits remain;

Those who want us to forget

And sit upon their self-made throne  -  

They also are here.

Freedom's clean hand

Still holds Liberty's torch and she speaks:

Don't tread on me!                                                                                                                                            

 

 

 

 

 

 

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