2.2.2.2./4.3.3.1./timp.perc./sts
Text: Great Land we call home, Great land we love, Hail to our Mighty Father, Gentle Mother. Now ours to sing, sing all your praises.
Having come from many people, Now we are one people. Hail to our mighty Father, Gentle Mother. Great Land, your own people whisper their song to you, Shout their song to you, Fill the air with their hard-wood melody fo you.
We shout our song on a cold winter night to you, our song to you. Hills of snow an starry skies combine to thrill the young And fill us all with the wonder of your endless beauty. On smooth ice flashing blades write your pulsing story too. And the ice from the sky cakes on trees ’Till it bends them very low to the ground. Then the strong warmth of sunlight fin’ly sets them free.
Great land of quiet lakes, Your uncut timber a silent army makes. To you our praises ring, To you our thanks we bring. Land where the golden wheat Drums from the earth with a stubborn pounding beat, Your daughters and your sons join now to fill this land with sound. Great land we call our home, Great land we call our own, Roll on O True North, O Canada strong and free. (What's this?)