Our Culture Our Standard.
Memories of old
As stories we were told
The landmarks in the past ages
Now standards for potential sages
The event that took flight.
The recorded victory’s of our fallen knight
The blue print on our golden walls
Our Shepherd and ancient crystal.
The crude riffles, still potent to win modern victory
The archaic arrows that brought us immortal glory
We’ll never exchange you for western rockets
Nor forfeit you to fill our pockets.
Crude culture, golden picture
The master plane of our golden structure
Crude culture, golden standards
The baton of power delivered to our feeble hands.
The heritage of our fatherland.
The golden scepter in our royal hand
We’ll never replace you with borrowed robes
Nor burry the praise and pride you holds.
Our culture; though a hut it is
It is the palace of our present peace
As a faded flower it looks
It is the mastercopy of our golden books
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