Across the wild Atlantic, past the mist and salty foam,
I found a heart of iron in a land so far from home.
He doesn’t wear the tartan or the heather on his chest,
But he stands as tall as Nevis, put to any heavy test.
His hands are worn and calloused, like the stones along the Tay,
A steady hand to hold me when the skies are turning grey
Oh, my American lad is sturdy, like a castle on the rock,
A spirit made of thunder that no winter storm can shock.
With the courage of a lion and a soul that’s deep and true,
He’s the fire in the darkness, and the steel that pulls us through
Born where sawgrass meets the tide, ‘neath the Everglades' hot sun,
With the grit of Florida inside him since his life begun.
But now he calls the Ozarks home, where the Joplin breezes blow,
A man of lead and zinc and strength, with a heart that’s all aglow.
Through the storms that sweep the valley and the rolling hills of green,
The toughest soul in Missouri that these eyes have ever seen
Oh, my American lad is sturdy, like a castle on the rock,
A spirit made of thunder that no winter storm can shock.
With the courage of a lion and a soul that’s deep and true,
He’s the fire in the darkness, and the steel that pulls us through
From the Highlands to the Southwest plains, let the pipes and fiddles play,
For a man who stands his ground until the breaking of the day.
He’s the kin of every mountain, he’s the brother to the gale,
A love that’s built on granite, and a strength that will not fail
So here’s to my American, the bravest I have known,
With a heart as big as Joplin and a marrow made of bone.
Aye, he’s strong...
My bonnie lad is strong.
