[Verse 1]
When apples still grow in November,
When blossoms still bloom from each tree,
When leaves are still green in December,
It's then that our land will be free.
I've wandered her hills and valleys,
Yet still, through my sorrow, I see,
A land that has never known freedom,
And only her rivers run free.
[Verse 2]
I drink to the d**h of her manhood.
To those men who would rather have died,
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage,
To bring back their rights that were denied.
Where are you know when we need you?
What burns where the flames used to be?
Are ye gone, like the snows of last winter?
And will only our rivers run free?
[Verse 3]
How sweet is life but we're crying,
How mellow is the wine but it's dry,
How fragrant is the rose but it's dying,
And how gentle is the breeze but it sighs.
What good is in youth when it's aging?
What joy are in eyes that can see?
When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers,
And only our rivers run free?