She stands with poetic ease
across the vast expanse
She'll look whene'er she please
to the strength of that Greater Continent's glance
And coy she is, and fair ~
her mighty engines soar the air
her troops are bold,
her winters cold,
and summer's sizzling forces men to glare...
What say you then to this fair land
when at her shores you gaze?
You cannot touch,
but send your man
with messages, and she'll return the grace.