It's country which has souls of worth
Unfailing yields and ample wealth.
The Land has large luring treasure
Where pests are nil and yields are sure.
It's land that bears pressing burdens
And pays its tax which king demands.
It is country which is free from
Fierce famine, plague and foemen's harm.
Sects and ruinous foes are nil
No traitors in a land tranquil.
The land of lands no ruin knows
Even in grief its wealth yet grows.
Waters up and down, hills and streams
With strong forts as limbs country beams.
Rich yield, delight, defence and wealth
Are jewels of lands with blooming health.
A land is land which yields unsought
Needing hard work the land is nought.
Though a land has thus every thing
It is worthless without a king.
THE COUNTRY
