She is a rich and rare land

Oh she’s a fresh and fair land;

She is a dear and rare land

This native land of mine.
 

No men than hers are braver,

Her women’s hearts ne’er waver;

I’d freely die to save her

And think my lot divine.

She’s not a dull or cold land,

No, she’s a warm and bold land,

Oh, she’s a true and old land

This native land of mine.
 

Could beauty ever guard her

And virtue still reward her

No foe would cross her border –

No friend within it pine.
 

Oh, she’s a fresh and fair land,

Oh, she’s a true and rare land,

Yes, she’s a rare and fair land,

This native land of mine.

P.S. Sorry about the ‘Protestant patriot’! No, I don’t know what that is either!

It’s just that so many of our finest – those whose reputation endured, belonged to the Protestant faith.   

Is there a lesson in there somewhere?