Our Home

Cicadas hum so loud our ears ring,
And whisper secrets of old,
And the babbling brook,
Misty and cold,
Sings to us of travellers past,
The trees filled with the singing birds,
Calling their mates home,
And the cattle that moo for their herds,
Trudging through fields as they roam,
For this is our country,
Our house,
And our home,
It once belonged to others,
Who hunt as they roam,
But now we share it,
We all play our part,
Yes now we share it,
And unite at the heart.