My Country Twas of Thee

My country was of thee,
Stolen by tyranny
Of the I cry.
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From ev'ry mountainside
My freedom died!

That's what happens if Americans let the illegitimate Trump regime stand without impeachment. Neither the Executive Branch nor leadership of the House and Senate is immune from prosecution. The fact that Congress passed legislation to protect themselves from prosecution is evidence of guilt that they know they harbor.

Take that point up in the court when the time comes. The time will come, one prosecution at a time.

Trump is neither God nor King, as much as he might want. He is a tyrannical President who must be ousted by all legal means.

"Samuel Francis Smith wrote the lyrics to "My Country 'Tis of Thee" in 1831,[4] while he was a student at the Andover Theological Seminary in Andover, Massachusetts. His friend Lowell Mason had asked him to translate the lyrics in some German school songbooks or to write new lyrics. A melody in Muzio Clementi's Symphony No. 3 (also called 'The Great National' and contains the melody of 'God Save the Queen' as a tribute to Clementi's adopted country) caught his attention. Rather than translating the lyrics from German, Smith wrote his American patriotic hymn to the melody, completing the lyrics in thirty minutes. 

Smith gave Mason the lyrics he had written and the song was first performed in public on July 4, 1831,[4] at a children's Independence Day celebration at Park Street Church in Boston. First publication of "America" was in 1832." 

Wiki

America, the basis.

My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From ev'ry mountainside
Let freedom ring!
2
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills,
Like that above.
3
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.
4
Our fathers' God to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee, we sing.
Long may our land be bright,
With freedom's holy light,
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God our King.

All hail, or go to hell.