In what delightful country strays
Each gentle friend of youthful days?
Where dwelleth all I love or praise?
O! in my Native Land.
Where are the fields and gardens fair
Where once I sported free as air,
Without despondency or care?
O! in my Native Land.
Where is each path and still retreat
Where I with song held converse sweet
With true poetic fire replete?
O! in my Native Land.
Where do the merry maidens move,
Who purely live and truly love--
Whose words do not deceitful prove?
O! in my Native Land.
And where on earth that friendly place,
Where each presents a brother's face,
Where frowns or anger ne'er debase!
O! 'tis my Native Land.
And O! where dwells that dearest one
My first affections fix'd upon,
Dying with grief that I am gone?
O! in my Native Land.
Where do they food to strangers give?
Where kindly, liberally relieve?
Where unsophisticated live?
O! in my Native Land.
Where are the guileless rites retain'd,
And customs of our sires maintain'd?
Where has the ancient Welsh remain'd?
O! in my Native Land.
Where is the harp of sweetest string?
Where are songs read in bardic ring?
Genius and inspiration sing
Within my Native Land.
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