In our own towns, wе’re foreigners now, our names are spat and cursed
The headlines smack of another attack, not the last and not the worst
Oh, my fathers they look down on me, I wonder what they feel
To see their noble sons driven down, beneath a coward’s heel
Oh, by God we’ll have our home again, by God we’ll have our home
By blood or sweat, we’ll get there yet, by God we’ll have our home