.Frysk bloed tsjoch op, wol no ris brûs en siede,
ât ienigste wat hjir siert is myn bloed, en de rest lit sich riede
Al dat provinciale geblêr hinget my ut de strot,
En stean gean doch ik foar gjin ien, krek dat ât my wat docht
Fierljeppen, skûtsjesilen en altyd wer die k.
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