OT Flag poem

From: BARRY OLIVER (DHSPA58@dhs.state.il.us)
Date: Thu Apr 17 2003 - 15:49:55 EDT


 THE FLAG OF THE UNITED STATES!!!

      I Am the Flag of the United States of America

       I am the flag of the United States of America.
            My name is Old Glory.
       I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
       I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
       I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
       I stand guard with power in the world.
       Look up and see me.
       
      I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
      I stand for freedom.
      I am confident.
      I am arrogant.
      I am proud.
       
      When I am flown with my fellow banners,
      My head is a little higher,
      My colors a little truer.
       
      I bow to no one!
      I am recognized all over the world.
      I am worshipped - I am saluted.
      I am loved - I am revered.
      I am respected - and I am feared.
       
      I have fought in every battle

      of every war

      for more then 200 years.

      I was flown at Valley Forge,
      Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appamatox.

      I was there at San Juan Hill,
      the trenches of France,
      in the Argonne Forest,

      Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy.

      Guam, Okinawa, Korea and

      KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me.
      I was there.
      I led my troops, I was dirty, battleworn and tired,
      But my soldiers cheered me and I was proud.
       
      I have been burned, torn and trampled on the
      streets of countries I have helped set free.
      It does not hurt for I am invincible.
     
      I have been soiled upon, burned, torn and
      trampled in the streets of my country.
      And when it's done by those

      Whom I've served in battle - it hurts.
      But I shall overcome - for I am strong.
       
      I have slipped the bonds of Earth
      and stood watch over the uncharted
      frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon.
     
      I have borne silent witness to all of America's finest hours.
       
      But my finest hours are yet to come.
       
      When I am torn into strips and used as bandages
      for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
      When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
      Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent
      at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
       
      I am proud.
      

      Please forward my message to all who still love
      and respect me that I may fly proudly
      for another two hundred years.



This archive was generated by hypermail 2b29 : Fri Feb 06 2004 - 11:46:11 EST