Columbia spreads her arms wide,
Beckoning in the sick, the poor,
She asks for your tired, your weary,
She offers them refuge from their pasts.
She offers them shelter, she offers them life,
But above all else, she offers them hope:
The opportunity for a brighter tomorrow.
Her electric cities provide a haven of light and of life,
They are places where the people never sleep,
Where the fun does not stop,
Where the action goes on and on and on.
They are places where anyone may become someone,
Where no one is nothing,
Where everyone has something.
The life and the light overwhelm the consumers
As they consume whatever trinkets they can,
Gobbling and gulping down the vitality
Of the sweet, sweet life that is so purely American,
So unique, so new, so tempting –
And the never-ending elixir of youth replenishes,
And the cycle begins anew:
Uncle Sam beams down at his nephews
As their children work in the factories,
And their wives squander their greenbacks,
And their meat fouls on the packinghouse floors,
And Columbia grins all the while,
Her beacon of hope an eternal flame.
And that flame burns brightly,
Engulfing the archaic past in fire,
Guiding her children towards fresh life:
She gives them a voice, puts the power into their hands –
Into the hands of her daughters –
And she gives back childhood to the children,
Leaving their calloused hands idle,
Protecting their cherubic visages and fragile forms
From the dangers of toil and adulthood.
She feeds her children rich foods,
Imbuing them with health and vitality.
Her heart and arms open to your tired, your weary,
Open to your sick, to your poor,
Columbia welcomes them with the promise of tomorrow,
Moving forward from a darkened past
To a vibrant new day of democracy.