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The West Virginia

Tom Swinburn
Charleston, W. Va., April 1, 1903

O named for the hills of the State,
Where the men of the mountains are free.
O named for the forests so great;
For the valleys so pleasant that be.

The coal and the iron and oil;
For the gas, and the salt, and the wood.
The grass and the grain from her soil;
For her rivulet, torrent and flood.

Deep down in her pockets of earth
She has treasures untold in her grasp.
Her cliffs give the eagle his birth.
She has home, shop, and ship in her clasp.

O ship, may thy sides like her hills
Be a bulwark for freedom intact;
Thy voice like the eagle's that thrills;
Like her swoop be thy sharp beak's impact.

Thy ports like the mines in her hills,
Belch the hope of the hearths of the free.
Thy furnace glow like her kilns,
Be the heart of the giant in thee.

Like the crags on her sentinel hills
Be thy turrets thy castles of might.
Like pines on her peaks the wind fills
Wave thy flag over freedom and right.

Thy pennant floated over no wrong,
Nor be tarnished with innocent blood.
For righteousness ever be strong,
Ever stand for the free, brave and good.