Oh land of our birth.
Hearken to the despair of my breath.
If i have the zeal to taste your daily meal,let there be no death.
I travail for joy to prevail,but to no avail.
Oh land of our birth,as I wipe my tears against the bosom of the sea,let my request satisfy my thirst with no curse.
You promised to permit me to fill my purse.
But you denied me from achieving the best.
The crown of tears suggests my hunger.
But you consider it to be a social canker.
No worries,I will become a peasant in my chamber.
All the same,it doesn't matter.
Oh land of our birth,I pledge to thee.
My love and toil in the years to be.
Give heed to me from wee to pee.
And trust that the crown of tears will be wiped off by my friend Gee,before the key of plea
Gets lost from me.
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