When apples still grow in November
When Blossoms still bloom from 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
Oh where are you now when we need you
What burns where the flame used to be
Are ye gone like the snows of last winter
And will only our rivers run free?
How sweet is life but we`re crying
How mellow the wine but it`s dry
How fragrant the rose but it`s dying
How gentle the breeze but it sighs
What good is in youth when it`s aging
What joy is in eyes that can`t see
When there`s sorrow in sunshine and flowers
And still only our rivers run free
(с) by Mickey MacCoelli 1965
