Independence Day

Song of the Settlers
Jessamyn West
Freedom is a hard-bought thing --
A gift no one can give,
For some, a way of dying,
For most, a way to live.

Freedom is a hard-bought thing --
A rifle in the hand,
The horses hitched at sunup,
A harvest in the land.

Freedom is a hard-bought thing --
A massacre, a bloody rout,
The candles lit at nightfall,
And the night shut out.

Freedom is a hard-bought thing --
A bullet in the back,
The wind in the long corn rows,
And hay in the rack.

Freedom is a way of living,
A song, a mighty cry.
Freedom is the bread we eat;
Let it be the way we die!
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