| What is America to me? A name, a map, or a flag I see A certain word, democracy What is America to me? The house I live in A plot of earth, a street The grocer and the butcher Or the people that I meet The children in the playground The faces that I see All races and religions That's America to me The place I work in The worker by my side The little town the city Where my people lived and died The howdy and the handshake The air of feeling free And the right to speak your mind out That's America to me |
The things I see about me The big things and the small That little corner newsstand Or the house a mile tall The wedding and the churchyard The laughter and the tears And the dream that's been a growing For more than two hundred years The town I live in The street, the house, the room The pavement of the city Or the garden all in bloom The church the school the clubhouse The million lights I see But especially the people — Yes especially the people That's America to me |
| America the Beautiful Music by: Samuel Ward Lyrics by: Katharine Lee Bates |
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| O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea! O beautiful for pilgrim feet Whose stern impassioned stress A thoroughfare of freedom beat Across the wilderness! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law! O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife. Who more than self their country loved And mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine 'Til all success be nobleness And every gain divine! O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undim'd by human tears! America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea! |
O beautiful for halcyon skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the enamel'd plain! America! America! God shed his grace on thee 'Til souls wax fair as Earth and air And music-hearted sea! O beautiful for pilgrim feet, Whose stem impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America! America! God shed his grace on thee 'Til paths be wrought through wilds of thought By pilgrim foot and knee! O beautiful for glory-tale Of liberating strife When once and twice, for man's avail Men lavished precious life! America! America! God shed his grace on thee 'Til selfish gain no longer stain The banner of the free! O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undim'd by human tears! America! America! God shed his grace on thee 'Til nobler men keep once again Thy whiter jubilee! |
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| Strange Fruit By: Abel Meeropol (aka Lewis Allan) |
| Southern trees bear a strange fruit, Blood on the leaves and blood at the root, Black body swinging in the Southern breeze, Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees. Pastoral scene of the gallant South, The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth, Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh, And the sudden smell of burning flesh! Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck, For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck, For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop, Here is a strange and bitter crop. |