Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, From wandering on a foreign strand!
I've wandered through the ancient glens Where the air is filled with sorrow and climbed to the highest of peaks Walked amongst the haunted ruins of my nation There's nowhere I'd rather be
This is my home My heart My soul My hearthTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
