C                       G             C
    When apples still grow in November,
                F                     C                     G
    when blossoms still bloom on each tree,
               F                                        C
    when leaves are still green in December,
            G                                   Am
    it's then that our land will be free.
        F                               C                F                                   Em
    I wander her hills and valleys and still through my sorrow I see,
        F                                           C          G                           Am
    a land that has never known freedom, only her rivers run free.

        F                 G                  C
    I drink to the death of her manhood,
                 F                     C                  G
    those men who would rather have died
                 F                                     C
    than to live in the cold chains of bondage
           G                                          Am
    to bring back their rights were denied.
         F                                            C
    Where are you now, when we need you,
               F                                            Em
    what burns where the flame used to be?
                   F                                         C              G                           Am
    Are you gone like the snows of last winter, will only our rivers run free?

                 F        G                    C                F               C                     G
    How sweet is life but we're crying, how mellow the wine that were dry,
              F                                    C                G                              Am
    how fragrant the rose but it’s dying, how gentle the wind, but it sighs.
                F                                  C                  F                                 Em
    What good is youth when it’s ageing, what joy is in eyes that can see?
                           F                                    C
    when there’s sorrow in sunshine and flowers,
             G                          Am
    and only our rivers run free.