Not like the courage’s giant of Greek fame,
With conquering arms going from land to land
At our welcoming entrance, you shall see
A strong woman with a torch, who’s light
Is lighting itself, and her name
Mother of Immigrants From her torch
Shines a promising future, her eyes command
Protection for the misfits
“Keep old lands, with the old people” she cries,
Silently “Give me those that are tired and poor
The oppressed wanting to be free”
The trash from you land will be
Welcome in my land
It light’s its torch to give a warm welcoming
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