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When apples still grow in November
When blossoms still bloom on each tree
When leaves are still green in December
It's then that our land will be free

I wander her hills and her valleys
And still through my sorrow I see
A land that has never known freedom,
And only her rivers run free

I drink to the death of her manhood,
Those men who'd rather have died
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage
To bring back their rights were denied

Where are you now when we need you?
What burns where the flame used to be?
Are you gone like the snows of last winter?
Will only our rivers run free?

How sweet is life but we're crying
How mellow the wine that were dry
How fragrant the rose but it's dying
How gentle the wind but it sighs

What good is in youth when it's ageing ?
What joy is in eyes that can see
When there is sorrow in sunshine and flowers
And only our rivers run free.

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