My Country Tis Of Thee

The original is truly lovely, but since no one seems to heed it, I fixed it.

My country tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing    Of thee I think;
Land where my father’s died.     Land where the children die,
Land of the pilgrim’s pride   ‘Cause there’s gun-toting pride,
From every mountain side   From every classroom, my
Let freedom ring!    The bullets ring.

My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free    Land of the privileged free,
Thy name I love      Thy rich you love;
I love thy rocks and rills   You love your gold and frills,
Thy woods and templed hills   Thy homes and land and hills;
My heart with rapture fills   My heart is broken still,
Like that above   Too few above.

Let music swell the breeze   Accept all loving please,
And ring from all the trees   No hanging from the trees
Sweet freedom’s song   So much is wrong;
Let mortal tongues awake;   Bigots shall not partake;
Let all that breathe partake;  Choose who you want to date;
Let rocks their silence break,   Who cares for heaven’s sake?
The sound prolong.   There’s nothing wrong.

Our father’s God to, Thee,   My parents they taught me,
Author of liberty,   be nice and then you’ll see,
To Thee we sing.   but still it stings.
Long may our land be bright   So long our black friends fight,
With freedom’s holy light;   with all their peaceful might,
Protect us by Thy might,   We still don’t treat them right,
Great God, our King!      Equality

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