Historic Sheet Music Collection

Authors

Henry Russell

Document Type

Score

Publication Date

1841

Comments

Our Native Song
Composed by Henry Russell

New York (239 Broadway and 1 Franklin Sq.): Published by Firth Hall & Pond

Some of these resources may contain offensive language or negative stereotypes. Such materials should be seen in the context of the time period and as a reflection of attitudes of the time. The items are part of the historical record, and do not represent the views of the libraries or the institution.

Abstract

[Verse 1]
Our native song! our native song!
Oh! where is he who loves it not?
The spell it holds is deep and strong,
Wher e'er we go, what e'er our lot,
let other music greet our ear
With thrilling fire or dulcet tone;
We speak to praise, we pause to hear,
But yet oh! yet 'tis not our own!
The Anthem chant, the Ballad wild,
The notes that we remember long
The theme we sing with lisping tongue
'Tis this we love out native song!
Our native song!
Our native song!
The theme we sing with lisping tongue
'Tis this we love our native song!
Our native song!
our native song!
The theme we sing with lisping tongue
'Tis this we love our native song!

[Verse 2]

The one who bears the felon's brand,
With moody brow and darken'd name,
Thrust meanly from his fatherland,
To languish out a life of shame;
Oh! let him hear some simple strain
Some lay his mother, taught her boy
He'll feel the charm, and dream again
Of home, of innocence, and joy!
The sigh will burst, the drops will start,
And all of virtue buried long
The best, the purest in his heart,
is weaken'd by his native song.
Our native song!
Our native song!
The theme we sing with lisping tongue
'Tis this we love out native song!

[Verse 3]
Self exil'd from our place fo birth,
To limes more fragrant, bright, and gay,
The mem'ry of our own fair earth
May chance awhile to fade away;
But should some minstrel echo fall,
Of chords that breathe Columbia's fame,
Our souls will burn, our spirits yearn,
True to the land we love and claim.
The high! the low! in weal of woe,
Be sure there's something coldly wrong
About the heart that does not glow
To hear its own,
Its native song.
Our native song!
Our native song!
The theme we sing with lisping tongue
'Tis this we love our native song!

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The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.