Stone are my walls, and my roof is of timber,
 But the hands of my builder are stronger by far.
 The roof may be burned and my stones may be scattered,
 But never her light be defeated in war.
 
 I am the heart and the core of the Morgans.
 Many the battle, around me, was fought.
 Many the year has gone by since my building.
 Each of my stones, by a life, has been bought.
 
 Long was the work and hard was the building
 From under the hill and the forest so wide.
 My stone, that is piled in the place of her choosing,
 Is mortared with bone of the men who have died.
 
 Blood paid the price of this hill that I rest on
 And blood pays the price of these lands that I see.
 The price; it is fair for the rights that it purchased.
 Within my gray walls, ye shall ever stand free.
 
 I am the heart and the core of the Morgans.
 Amanda; she built me and I shall remain
 A home for the heart of the men that may leave me;
 A beacon for bearing their way home again.
 
 Stone are my walls and my roof is of timber,
 But the hands of my builder are stronger by far.
 The roof may be burned and my stones may be scattered,
 But never her light be defeated in war.