Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor

Lyrics

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breath free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless,
Tempest-tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame is the imprisoned lightning,
And her name, Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome;
Her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor
That twin cities frame.
"Keep, Ancient Lands, your storied pomp!"
Cries she with silent lips.

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breath free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless,
Tempest-tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

This song was originally posted at:
http://bussongs.com/songs/give-me-your-tired-your-poor.php

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2 Comments

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Leatrice, Moldova, Republic of

18 July 2016 at 8:33am

I seahcred a bunch of sites and this was the best.

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Angela, New York,u.s.

27 May 2009 at 11:46pm

Since one of the verses is one the Statue of Liberty, I love it! on a rate of 1-10 i give it a 13,000,000.!

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This song has been printed from the BusSongs.com website.