Our sanctum is a happy den,
No place like it is found,
Its fame is gone through all the world
"From north to south-most bound."
Then sing we all a jolly song
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To honor the home of the free.
Where cutting's allowed, yes every day,
And a summons ne'er we see.
/
For oh, for oh,
Now list to our merry glee;
To exchanges and scissors and mucilage brush,
Our praises e'er must be.
/
A song of joy so let us sing,
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Shooting Match.
