Only Our Rivers Run Free

When apples still grow in november
and blossoms still grow from each tree
When leaves are still green in december,
it's then that our lands will be free

I travel her hills and her valleys
and still trough the sorrows I see
A land that has never know freedom
and only our rivers run free

I drink to the death of her manhood,
those man who'd rather have died
than to live in cold chains of boundage
to bring back their lies we denied.

Oh where are you now when we need you
What burnes where the flames used to be
Are you gone like the snow from last winter
And will only our rivers run free

How sweet is life, but we're crying.
How mellow is the wine, but it's dry.
How fragrant the rose, but it's dying.
How gentle the breeze, but it's sigh.

What good is in youth when it's aging
What joy is in the eyes that can't see
When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers,
and still our rivers run free.

I travelled her hills...