If we don't or if we do. What's the odds to me and you? Fame is e'er a heartless jade, And her slaves are poorly paid; Weary hearts and soul's distress Are the prices of success; All our stations sadness view,-- If we don't or if we do. If we don't or if we do, Our deservings will accrue; We must pay the fullest price, For each virtue and each vice, And each life for every thing Must an equal portion bring; Justice shall our deeds review, If we don't or if we do. If we don't or if we do, Fortune to our worth is true; Trophies that enshroud our clay, Scarce are worth the price we pay; Shame doth small endeavors share, Fame and glory, toil and care; Earth floats but an equal crew, If we don't or if we do. If we don't or if we do, What's the diff'rence 'tween the two, When our souls have gone to God And we sleep beneath the sod? Kindred grasses wave and creep Where the prince and pauper sleep; We shall have our six-feet-two, If we don't or if we do. If we don't or if we do, We but dust and ashes brew; Labor, trouble, toil and strife Weave within each human life; Sorrows cloud the younger years; Age is bowed with cares and tears; Accidents in fame are few,-- If we don't or if we do. If we don't or if we do. Fate to our deserts is true; If we fail, or falter not, Every life deserves his lot; Every human, small or great, Buys with current coin his fate; What's the odds to me and you, If we don't or if we do? DEAR SONGS OF MY COUNTRY! Dear songs of my country! How sweetly thy measures Come stealthily stealing o'er mountain and wave, To sweeten the riches of liberty's treasures And thrill with their numbers the hearts of the brave! To move in wild glory the souls of a nation, Till men are together so happily hurled, That millions are bound in fraternal relation And brotherhoods rule in the ranks of the world. Such praises ye offer our heroes and sages, So grand is the greatness that lives in thy strains, That small is the fame of the far away ages, So sunken in tyranny, fettered in chains. For freedom ye strive and ye struggle for glory, And Liberty--Liberty still is your theme-- And glad are your lips with the national story, Which warriors have written on forest and stream. Dear songs of my country! The soul patriotic Ye fill with the wishes of mighty emprise, Till conquers he tyranny harsh and despotic, Or first in the front of the battle he dies. Ye offer him laurels, ye crown him with praises, Who falls in the fight with his face to the foe, And gratitude over his sepulcher raises The marbles eternal of national woe.