This Is Not Your Country, George Bush

This is not your country, George Bush.
This is not a country of fear.
This is our country,
Our country of refugees.

This is our country of immigrants,
Our country of slaves, building the Capitol,
Our country of Chinese, building the railroads.
Our country, George Bush, not yours.

This is our country where starving Irish found food.
Our country where Germans and Italians
Spoke no English for a generation.

This is our country, George Bush, not yours.
Our country of boat people from Cuba and Vietnam,
Our country of Asian mathematicians and scientists,
Our country of Korean shopkeepers,
Our country of Croats and Bosnians, of Jews and Kurds.

Can you hear the music, George Bush?
Can you hear Tex-Mex and Polish polka?
Can you hear Delta blues, New Orleans dixieland, and slave hollers?
Have you danced to Eskimo drums and Lakota powwow?
Can you hear New England clogging and hand-clapping games?
Have you heard French cajun and African-tinged zydeco?
Have you heard Puerto Rican music in Hawaii?
Can you hear what a country these have made?

Our country is not a country of fear
And that's the terrible drug you push, George Bush.
Our country is a country of hope, and that's why they come.
And that's why they will always come.

This is not your country, George Bush,
America is our country.