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
