[ Featuring His Orchestra, Frank Sinatra ]
What is A-mer-i-ca to me?
A name, a map, the flag I see,
A cer-tain word, "De-moc - ra - cy."
What is A-mer-i-ca to me?
The house I live in, A plot of earth, a street,
The groc-er and the butch-er and the peo-ple that I meet,
The chil-dren in the play-ground, the fac-es that I see;
All rac-es, all re-lig-ions, that's A-mer-i-ca to me.
The place I work in, the work-er at my side
The lit-tle town or cit-y where my peo-ple lived and died
The "how-dy" and the hand-shake the air of feel-ing free
The right to speak my mind out, that's A-mer-i-ca to me.
The things I see a-bout me the big things and the small
The lit-tle cor-ner news-stand and the house a mile__tall;
The wed-ding and the church-yard, the laugh-ter and the tears,
The dream that's been a grow-in' for a hun-dred fif-ty years
The town I live in the street, the house, the room,
The pave-ment of the cit-y, or a gar-den all in bloom,
The church, the school, the club house,
The mil-lion lights I see, But es-pec-ial-ly the peo-ple,
That's A- mer - i -ca to me.
