The House I Live In

anonymous

What is America to me?
A name, a map, the flag I see,
A certain word, Democracy.
What is America to me?

The house I live in, a plot of earth, a street,
The grocer and the butcher and the people that I meet,
The children in the playground, the faces that I see;
All races, all religions, that's America to me.

The place I work in, the worker at my side,
The little town or city where my people lived and died,
The howdy and the handshake, the air of feeling free,
The right to speak my mind out, that's America to me.

The things I see about me, the big things and the small,
The little corner newsstand and the house a mile tall;
The wedding and the churchyard, the laughter and the tears,
The dream that's been a-growin' for a hundred fifty years.

The town I live in, the street, the house, the room,
The pavement of the city, or a garden all in bloom,
The church, the school, the club house,
The million lights I see, But especially the people,
That's America to me.