(Brian Woodbury)
My country is a rustlin’ field of wheat.
And my country is a bustlin’ city street.
And my country is the place where both ends meet.
My country is dreadlocks and a redneck buzzcut trim.
My country is west side story in a Texas high school gym.
It’s a hot date, stayin’ out late. And then a Sunday morning hymn.
My country. That is my country.
From the city square to the county fair,
I believe in my country.
Be it boom or bust, or in God we trust,
it takes all of us to make my country.
My country is a yoga class and a Bible study group.
It’s a NASCAR dad and an undergrad on a Yellowstone hiking loop.
It’s the fast lane and the great chain and the Indian’s sacred hoop.
In my country we remember and we honor fallen braves.
To my country hopeful migrants are still coming on in waves.
For my country is the one that freed the slaves.
My country. That is my country.
From the city square to the county fair,
I believe in my country.
To be free and just, disagree we must.
It takes all of us to make our country.
This is our country, this is our country.