Now that your big eyes are finally open
Now that you’re wondering, "How must they feel?"
Meaning them that you've chased across Canada's movie screens
Now that you’re wondering, "How can it be real?"
That the ones you've called colorful, noble, and proud in your school propaganda
They starve in their splendor
You asked for our comment, I simply will render
My country 'tis of thy people, you're dying

Now that the longhouses breed superstition
You force us to send our children away
To your schools where they're taught to despise their traditions
Forbid them their languages, then further say that
Canada's history really began
When explorers set sail out of Europe
And stress 
that the nations of leeches who conquered these lands
Were the biggest, and bravest, and boldest, and best

And yet where in your history books is the tale
Of the genocide basic to this country's birth?
Of the preachers who lied? And the people who died?
How a nation of patriots returned to their earth?
Where does it tell of the starvation hell?
As the children were herded, and raped and converted?
And how do we rescue the missing and murdered?
My country 'tis of thy people, you're dying
A few of the conquered have somehow survived
Their blood runs the redder, though genes have been paled
From Arctic Inuvik to Niagara Falls
The wounded, the losers, the robbed sing their tale
And from Vancouver Island to the Labrador Sea
The white nations fattened while others grew lean
Oh, the tricked and evicted, they know what I mean
My country 'tis of thy people, you're

The past it just crumbled, the future just threatens
Our life blood is shut up in your papers and banks
And now here you come, bill of sale in your hand
And surprise in your eyes, that we're lacking in thanks
For the blessings of civilization you brought us
The lessons you've taught us, the ruin you've wrought us
Oh see what our trust in O Canada got us
My country 'tis of thy people, you're dying

Now that the pride of the sires needs charity
Now that we're harmless and safe behind laws
Now that my life's to be known as your heritage
Now that even the graves have been robbed
Now that our own chosen way is your novelty
Hands on our hearts, 
we salute you your victory
Choke on your true white and scarlet hypocrisy
Pity your blindness, oh why can't you see
How the eagles of war whose wings lend you glory
Are never no more than buzzards and crows
Pushed some wrens from their nest
Stole their eggs, changed their story
The mockingbird sings it, it's all that she knows
“Aw, what could I do?” say the privileged few
With a lump in your throat and a tear in your eye
Can't you see that their poverty's profiting you?
My country 'tis of thy people, you're dying