SON:
Father, look up, and see that flag!
How gracefully it flies!
Those pretty stripes, they seem to be
A rainbow in the skies.

FATHER:
It is your country's flag, my boy,
And proudly drinks the light,
O'er ocean's wave, in foreign climes,
A symbol of our might.

SON:
Father, what fearful noise is that,
Now thundering in the clouds?
Why do they, cheering, wave their hat,
And rush along in crowds?

FATHER:
It is the voice of cannonry,
The glad shouts of the free;
This is a day of memory,
'Tis FREEDOM'S JUBILEE!

SON:
I wish that I was now a man,
I'd free my country too,
And cheer as loudly as the rest;
But, father, why don't you?

FATHER:
I'm getting old and weak; but still
My heart is big with joy;
I've witnessed many a day like this,
Shout you aloud, my boy!

SON:
HURRAH, FOR FREEDOM'S JUBILEE,
God bless our native land!
And may I live to hold the boon
Of freedom in my hand.

FATHER:
Well done, my boy, grow up, and love
The land that gave you birth,—
A land where Freedom loves to dwell,—
A paradise on earth.