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When apples still grow in November, when blossom remains on each tree

When leaves are still green in December - it's then that our land will be free

I wander her hills and her valleys and still to my sorrow I see

A land that has never known freedom, and only our rivers run free

I drink to the death of her manhood, to those men who would rather have died

Than to live in the cold chains of bondage, to bring back the rights we're denied

But where are you now when we need you, what burns where the flame used to be?

Are you gone like the snow of last winter? And still only our rivers run free

How sweet is life but we're crying, how mellow the wine but it's dry

How fragrant the rose but it's dying, how gentle the breeze that sighs

What good is in youth when it's ageing, what joy is in eyes that can see

When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers, and only our rivers run free

Only our rivers run free