America The Beautiful

O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed his grace on thee, And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet Whose stern impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife, Who more than self their country loved, And mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine Till all success be nobleness, And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years, Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed his grace on thee, And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!

The Star Spangled Banner

Words by Francis Scott Key

Music by John Stafford Smith

Verse 1: Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro' the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watch'd, were so gallantly streaming? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there. O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Verse 2: On the shore dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream: 'Tis the star-spangled banner: O, long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Verse 3: And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood has wash'd out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave: And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Verse 4: O, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand, Between their lov'd homes and the war's desolation; Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserv'd us as a nation! Then conquer we must, when our cause is just, And this be our motto: "In God is our trust" And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Yankee Doodle

Original Words by Dr. Richard Schackburg

First Known Lyrics to the verse melody

Verse 1: Brother Ephraim sold his Cow and bought him a Commission, And then he went to Canada to fight for the Nation. But when Ephraim he came home he proved an arrant Coward, He wou'dn't fight the Frenchmen there for fear of being devour'd.

Original published lyrics

Verse 1: A Yankee Boy is trim and tall, And never over fat, sir, At dance, or frolic, hope and ball, as nimble as a rat, sir.

Chorus: Yankee Doodle guard your coast, Yankee Doodle dandy, Fear not then nor threat nor boast, Yankee Doodle dandy. (Repeat after each verse)

Verse 2: He's always out on training day, commencement or election, At truck and trade he knows the way, of thriving to perfection.

Verse 3: His door is always open found, his cider of the best, sir, His board with pumpkin pye is crown'd, and welcome every guest, sir.

Verse 4: Though rough and little is his farm, that little is his own, sir, His hand is strong, his heart is warm, 'tis truth and honor's throne, sir.

Verse 5: His country is his pride and boast, he'll ever prove true blue, sir, When call'd upon to give his toast, 'tis Yankee Doodle, doo, sir.

Common Children's lyrics - possibly from the 1750s

Verse 1: Yankee Doodle went to town a-riding on a pony, Stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni.

Chorus A: Yankee Doodle keep it up, Yankee Doodle dandy, Mind the music and the step, and with the girls be handy.

Alternate early published lyrics either separate from or following the verse above

Verse 1: Father and I went down to camp along with Captian Gooding (or Goodwin), And there we saw the men and boys as thick as hasty pudding.

Chorus A: Yankee Doodle keep it up, Yankee Doodle dandy, Mind the music and the step, and with the girls be handy. (Repeat after each verse)

Verse 2: And there was General Washington upon a snow white charger, He looked as big as all outdoors, some thought he was much larger.

Verse 3: And there was Col'nel Putnam too, Dres't in his regimentals, I guess as how the British king can't whip our Continentals.

Verse 4: And there they had a copper gun big as a log of maple, They tied it to a wooden cart, a load for Father's cattle.

Verse 5: And ev'ry time they fired it off, it took a horn of powder, It made a noise like Father's gun, only a nation louder.

Verse 6: I went as near to it myself as any body dare go, And Father went as near again, I thought he dar'nt do so.

Verse 7: And there I see'd a little keg all bound around with leather, They beat it with two little sticks to call the men together.

Verse 8: And there they fif'd away like fem and play'd on cornstalk fiddles, And some had ribbins round their hats, and some around their middles.

Verse 9: The troopers, too, would gallop up and fir'd in all directions, I thought they really meant to kill all the cow boys in the nation.

Verse 10: But I can't tell you half I see'd, they kept up such a smother, I took my hat off, made a bow, and scamper'd home to mother.

The Battle Hymn of The Republic

Words by Julia Ward Howe and Music by Phillip Simonds

Verse 1: Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on.

Chorus: Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.

Verse 2: I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps; His day is marching on.

Chorus: Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.

Verse 3: I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel: "As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal": Let the Hero born of woman crush the serpent with His heel, Since God is marching on.

Chorus: Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.

Verse 4: He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgement seat; Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet; Our God is marching on.

Chorus: Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.

Verse 5: In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free; While God is marching on.

Chorus: Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.

Chorus: Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.

The Yankee Doodle Boy

Words and Music by George M. Cohan

Verse 1: I'm the kid that's all the candy, I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy, I'm glad I am, so's Uncle Sam. I'm a real live Yankee Doodle, made my name and fame and boodle, Just like Mister Doodle did, by riding on a pony. I love to listen to the Dixie strain, "I long to see the girl I left behind me;" And that ain't a josh, she's a Yankee, by gosh. Oh say can you see anything about a Yankee that's a phony?

Chorus: I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy, a Yankee Doodle do or die; A real live nephew of my Uncle Sam's, born on the Fourth of July. I've got a Yankee Doodle sweetheart, She's my Yankee Doodle joy. Yankee Doodle came to London just to ride the ponies; I am the Yankee Doodle boy.

Verse 2: Father's name was Hezikiah, Mother's name was Ann Maria, Yanks through and through; red, white and blue. Father was so Yankee hearted, when the Spanish war was started, He slipped on his uniform and hopped upon a pony. My mother's mother was a Yankee true, my father's father was a Yankee too; And that's going some, for the Yankees by gum. Oh say can you see anything about my pedigree that's phony?

Chorus: I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy, a Yankee Doodle do or die; A real live nephew of my Uncle Sam's, born on the Fourth of July. I've got a Yankee Doodle sweetheart, She's my Yankee Doodle joy. Yankee Doodle came to London just to ride the ponies; I am the Yankee Doodle boy.

I've got a Yankee Doodle sweetheart, She's my Yankee Doodle joy. Yankee Doodle came to London just to ride the ponies; I am the Yankee Doodle boy. I am the Yankee Doodle boy.

Anchors Aweigh (The Navy Fight Song)

Original Words (1906) by Midshipman First Class Alfred Hart Miles and Music by Lieutenant Charles A. Zimmermann. Revised Words by George D. Lottman Original Lyrics

Verse 1: Stand Navy down the field, sails set to the sky. We'll never change our course, so Army you steer shy-y-y-y. Roll up the score, Navy, Anchors Aweigh. Sail Navy down the field and sink the Army, sink the Army Grey.

Verse 2: Get underway, Navy, Decks cleared for the fray, We'll hoist true Navy Blue So Army down your Grey-y-y-y. Full speed ahead, Navy; Army heave to, Furl Black and Grey and Gold and hoist the Navy, hoist the Navy Blue

Verse 3: Blue of the Seven Seas; Gold of God's great sun Let these our colors be Till all of time be done-n-n-ne, By Severn shore we learn Navy's stern call: Faith, courage, service true With honor over, honor over all.

Revised Lyrics

Verse 1: Stand, Navy, out to sea, Fight our battle cry; We'll never change our course, So vicious foe steer shy-y-y-y. Roll out the TNT, Anchors Aweigh. Sail on to victory And sink their bones to Davy Jones, hooray!

Verse 2: Anchors Aweigh, my boys, Anchors Aweigh. Farewell to college joys, we sail at break of day-ay-ay-ay. Through our last night on shore, drink to the foam, Until we meet once more. Here's wishing you a happy voyage home.

Poem: A Patriotic Creed by Edgar Guest

To serve my country day by day At any humble post I may; To honor and respect her flag, To live the traits of which I brag; To be American in deed As well as in my printed creed.

To stand for truth and honest toil, To till my little patch of soil, And keep in mind the debt I owe To them who died that I might know My country, prosperous and free, And passed this heritage to me.

I always must in trouble's hour Be guided by the men in power; For God and country I must live, My best for God and country give; No act of mine that men may scan Must shame the name American.

To do my best and play my part, American in mind and heart; To serve the flag and bravely stand To guard the glory of my land; To be American in deed: God grant me strength to keep this creed!

Poem: A Patriotic Wish By: Edgar Guest

I'd like to be the sort of man the flag could boast about; I'd like to be the sort of man it cannot live without; I'd like to be the type of man That really is American: The head-erect and shoulders-square, Clean-minded fellow, just and fair, That all men picture when they see The glorious banner of the free. I'd like to be the sort of man the flag now typifies, The kind of man we really want the flag to symbolize; The loyal brother to a trust, The big, unselfish soul and just, The friend of every man oppressed, The strong support of all that's best, The sturdy chap the banner's meant, Where'er it flies, to represent. I'd like to be the sort of man the flag's supposed to mean, The man that all in fancy see wherever it is seen, The chap that's ready for a fight Whenever there's a wrong to right, The friend in every time of need, The doer of the daring deed, The clean and generous handed man That is a real American.

Poem: Flag of the Free

Look at the flag as it floats on high, Streaming aloft in the clear, blue sky, Rippling, leaping, tugging away, Gay as the sunshine, bright as the day, Throbbing with life, where the world may see- Flag of our country, flag of the free! What do we see in the flag on high, That we bare our heads as it passes by, That we thrill with pride, our hearts beat fast, And we cheer and cheer as the flag goes past- The flag that waves for you and me- Flag of our country, flag of the free?

We see in the flag a nation's might. The pledge of a safeguard day and night, Of a watchful eye and a powerful arm That guard the nation's homes from harm. Of a strong defense on land and sea- Flag of our country, flag of the free! We see in the flag a union grand, A brotherhood of heart and hand, A pledge of love and a stirring call To live our lives fro the good of us all- Helpful and just and true to thee, Flag of our country, flag of the free!

Flutter, dear flag, o'er the lands and seas! Fling out your stars and your stripes to the breeze, Righting all wrongs, dispelling all fear, Guarding the land that we cherish so dear, And the God of our fathers, abiding with thee, Will bless you and trust you, O flag of the free!

Poem: I Am An American

by Walter Taylor Field

I AM AN AMERICAN...listen to my words. Listen well, for my country is a strong country, and my message is a strong message.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and I speak for democracy and the dignity of the individual.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and my ancestors have given their blood for freedom: On the green of Lexington and the snow at Valley Forge, On the walls of Fort Sumter and the fields at Gettysburg, On the waters of the Marne and in the shadows of the Argonne, On the beachheads of Salerno and Normandy and the sands of Okinawa, On the bare, black hills called Pork Chop and Old Baldy and Heartbreak Ridge, a million and more of my countrymen have died for freedom.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and my country is their eternal monument.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and my ancestors have bequeathed to me: The laughter of a small boy as he watches a circus clown's antics, The sweet, delicious coldness of the first bite of peppermint ice cream on the Fourth of July, The little tenseness of a baseball crowd as the umpire calls, "Batter Up!" The high school band's rendition of the "Stars and Stripes Forever," in the Memorial Day parade, The clear, sharp ring of a school bell on a crisp fall morning, These and many others things they fought for and left me.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and the fruits of my thought and labor are mine to enjoy.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and my happy land is a land of many realms and mansions: It is a land of Ohio corn and potatoes and pastures, It is the realm of hundreds of acres of golden wheat stretching across flat miles of Kansas, It is the land of precision assembly lines in Detroit, It is the realm of milling cattle in the stockyards of Chicago, It is the land of glowing skylines of Pittsburgh and Birmingham, of San Francisco and New York, And my churches and homes are the mansions of heaven.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and the love of God has made me free.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and in my churches and homes everyone worships God in his own way: The young Jewish boy saying: "Hear, 0 Israel, the Lord is One, " The Catholic girl praying: "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is -with thee," The Protestant boy singing: "A Mighty Fortress is Our God, "Each one believing and praying as he must, And all joining in the universal prayer: "Our Father, who art in Heaven," with the voice in the soul of every human being that cries out to be free,

I AM AN AMERICAN...and I believe that America has answered that voice.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and my country offers freedom and opportunity such as no land before her has ever done: Freedom to work, as mechanic or farmer, as merchant or truck driver, Freedom to think, as chemist or lawyer, as doctor or priest, Freedom to love, as child, as parent, sweetheart, husband, wife, Freedom to speak, to pray, to read, to argue, to praise, to criticize, Freedom to live one - or two - hundred million different lives.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and my heritage is of the land and of the spirit, of the heart and of the soul.

I AM AN AMERICAN...and these are my words. Show me a now a country greater than my country, a people happier than my people.

I AM AN AMERICAN...I speak for democracy and the dignity of the individual.

Poem: Paul Revere's Ride By: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five:
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal-light,
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said, Good-night! and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison-bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street
Wanders and watches with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed to the tower of the Old North Church
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely, and spectral, and sombre and still.

And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!
A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he rode into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read,
How the British Regulars fired and fled,--
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,--
A cry of defiance and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

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