When apples still grow in November,
And blossoms still bloom on each tree,
When leaves are still green in December,
Tis then that our land will be free,
I've wandered her hills and her valleys,
But still in my sorrow I see,
A land that has never known freedom,
Still only our rivers run free.

And I'll drink to the death of her manhood,
To those men who would rather have died,
Than live in the cold cell of H-Blocks,
To win back their rights, they're denied,
Ah, where are you now when we need you?
What burns were the flame used to be?
And are you gone like the snows of last winter?
Still only our rivers run free.

How sweet is life but we're crying,
How mellow the wine but it's dry,
How fragrant the rose but it's dying,
How gentle the wind but it sighs,
What good is in youth when it's ageing?
What joy is in eyes that can't see?
Ah, when there's sorrow, sunshine and flowers,
Still only our rivers run free,

Ah, where are you now when we need you?
What burns were the flame used to be?
And are you gone like the snows of last winter?
Still only our rivers run free,
Still only our rivers run free.