Oh say can you see
Through the rocket's red glare
And the canon's loud roar
How we glorify war
Glory, gory hallelujah!

This land was their land
And now it's our land
But it's not your land
Though made by your hands

That pick our grapes and
Hang our drapes and
Landscape lawns and
Harvest prawns and
Caretake children
Carpenter homes
Clean motels
Cook and serve…

Et cetera.
¿Tu hablas español?

Be kind to our
Illegal friends
For mujer may be
somebody's mother.