In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned

    In every brick and stone, in every furrourned

    ts made America t has become.

    O, Im those early seas

    In searc I meant to be my home--

    For Im t dark Irelands shore,

    And Polands plain, and Englands grassy lea,

    And torn from Black Africas strand I came

    to build a quot;;

    the free?

    me?

    Surely not me? today?

    t down wrike?

    thing for our pay?

    For all the dreams weve dreamed

    And all the songs weve sung

    And all the hopes weve held

    And all the flags weve hung,

    thing for our pay--

    Except ts almost dead today.

    O, let America be America again--

    t never --

    And yet must be--the land where every man is free.

    ts mine--the poor mans, Indians, Negros, ME--

    ho made America,

    and blood, wh and pain,

    the rain,

    Must bring back our mighty dream again.

    Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--

    teel of freedom does not stain.

    From the peoples lives,

    e must take back our land again,

    America!

    O, yes,

    I say it plain,

    America never o me,

    And yet I sh--

    America will be!

    Out of ter death,

    t of graft, and stealth, and lies,

    e, t redeem

    ts, the rivers.

    tains and the endless plain--

    All, all tretc green states--

    And make America again!