Edward German
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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My song is of the sturdy North Whose hills are brown with heather, Where countless flowers in spring peep forth In spite of wind and weather, In spite of wind, In spite of wind and weather. The tufted larch is tipped with red Where late the sun ca- ressed her, But now she bows her stately head Be- fore the keen Norwester. Here fitful gleams the waves display That thunder on the shingle, There lake and torrent far away In liquid music mingle. My song, my song is of the sturdy North Give me the misty mountain land By ghosts of heroes haunted, With one I love at my right hand, with one I love, To face the world undaunted, To face the world, To face the world un daunted.
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