Текст песни America (Cumberland Blues) с переводом

My Country, 'tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died,

Land of the pilgrim’s pride,

From every mountainside

Let freedom ring.

My native country, thee,

Land of the noble free,

Thy name I love.

I love thy rocks and rills,

Thy woods and templed hills;

My heart with rapture fills

Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze,

And ring from all the trees

Sweet freedom’s song.

Let mortal tongues awake;

Let all that breathe partake;

Let rocks their silence break,

The sound prolong.

Our fathers' God, to Thee,

Author of liberty,

To Thee we sing.

Long may our land be bright

With freedom’s holy light;

Protect us by Thy might,

Great God, our King! A-men.

One verse, crossed out by Smith in original manuscripts, is generally omitted.

Originally the third verse, it reads:

No more shall tyrants here

With haughty steps appear

And soldier bands.

No more shall tyrants dread

Above the patriot dead;

No more our blood be shed

By alien hands.

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