when apples still grow in november when blossoms still bloom from each tree where leaves are still green in december it s then that our land will be free i wander her hills and her valleys and still through my sorrow i see a land that has never known freedom and only her rivers run free i drink to the death of her manhood those men who d rather have died than to live in the cold chains of bondage to bring back their rights were denied oh were are you now when we need you what burns were the flame used to be are you gone like snows of last winter and will only our rivers run free how sweet is life but we re crying how mellow the wine but it s dry how fragrant the rose but it s dying how gentle the breeze but it sighs what good is in youth when it s ageing what joy is in eyes that can t see when there s sorrow in sunshine and flowers and still only our rivers run free