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180 W. D. LYMAN
Where sleep the old heroes who liberty sought, And where live their free sons whom they liberty taught? In Oregon, free Oregon.
What is the lure of this far western land, When she beckons to all with her welcoming hand? It is the hand of Oregon.
Oh, Oregon, blest Oregon,
Dear Mother of the heart; At touch of thee all troubles flee
And tears of gladness start.
Take thou thy children to thy breast,
True keeper of our ways, And let thy starry eyes still shine
On all our coming days, Our Mother Oregon.
