Song of the Freed

Hurrah! hurrah! we're flung away 
     The bloody chain that bound us;
And gained the land of Canada, 
     Whose guardian arms surround us.

We've left the robber's home afar, 
     O'er Freedom's roaring river, 
And now we hail, with loud hurrah, 
     Victoria’s land forever.

Our chosen land, though cold they bend,
     Its sturdy bills are better,
Then all the blooming South, can lend,
     For there's the clanking fetter.

God bless the land, and bless the Queen, 
     And fill the hand that fed us, 
And keep forever bright it sheen —
     The golden star that led us.

Ha! let the southern bloodhounds’ bay 
     Lead on the man-thief’s prancer;
Niagara roaring loud as they,
     Shall pour th’ indignant answer.

Here on the foiled pursuer's track,
     Across the soundling border, 
We hurl our fierce defiance back,
     And scoff the mad marauder.

When Freedom lifts her war-red brand —
     Victoria's banner o'er us—
We'll thunder round his smoking land,
     While terror howls before us.

The vengeance that has slumbered long
     Full many a dark breast under, 
Down on the pallid hordes of wrong 
     Shall pour like sadden thunder.

Yet for the love of him, whose hand 
     Is raised against oppression, 
O God, forbear to spoil that land, 
     For all its dark transgression: –

But lead in strength the warriors there 
     The prisoners to deliver,
Till all the waveless depths of air 
     With victor-songs shall quiver.