lil somtin beezer sent me,

> > THE BATTLE OF THE FLAG
> >
> > It is the soldier, not the reporter,
> > who has given us freedom of the press.
> > It is the soldier, not the poet,
> > who has given us freedom of speech.
> >
> > It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
> > who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
> > It is the soldier, not the lawyer,
> > who has given us the right to a fair trial.
> >
> > It is the soldier, who salutes the flag,
> > who serves under the flag,
> > and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
> > who allows the protester to burn the flag.
> >
> > A protest raged on a courthouse lawn,
> > Round a makeshift stage they charged on,
> > Fifteen hundred or more they say,
> > Had come to burn a Flag that day.
> >
> > A boy held up the folded Flag,
> > Cursed it, and called it a dirty rag.
> > An OLD MAN pushed through the angry crowd,
> > With a rusty shotgun shouldered proud.
> >
> > His uniform jacket was old and tight,
> > He had polished each button, shiny and bright.
> > He crossed that stage with a soldier's grace,
> > Until he and the boy stood face to face.
> >
> > "FREEDOM OF SPEECH," the OLD MAN said,
> > "is worth dying for, good men are dead,
> > So you can stand on this courthouse lawn,
> > And talk us down from dusk to dawn,"
> >
> > "But before any Flag gets burned today,
> > This OLD MAN IS GOING TO HAVE HIS SAY!
> > My father died on a foreign shore,
> > In a war they said would end all war."
> >
> > "But Tommy and I weren't even full grown,
> > Before we fought in a war of our own.
> > And Tommy died on Iwo Jima's beach,
> > In the shadow of a hill he couldn't quite reach
> > Where five good men raised this Flag so high,
> > That the WHOLE WIDE WORLD COULD SEE IT FLY."
> >
> > "I got this bum leg that I still drag,
> > Fighting for this same old Flag.
> > Now there's but one shot in this old gun,
> > So now it's time to decide which one,"
> >
> > "Which one of you will follow our lead,
> > To stand and die for what you believe?
> > For as sure as there is a rising sun,
> > You'll burn in Hell 'fore this Flag burns, son."
> >
> > Now this riot never came to pass
> > The crowd got quiet and that can of gas,
> > Got set aside as they walked away
> > To talk about what they had heard this day.
> > And the boy who had called it a "dirty rag,"
> > Handed the OLD SOLDIER the folded Flag.
> >
> > So the battle of the Flag this day was won
> > By a tired OLD SOLDIER with a rusty gun,
> > Who for one last time, had to show to some,
> > THIS FLAG MAY FADE, BUT THESE COLORS DON'T RUN.


sinc. lurch