When Old Glory Was Young

[couchgrouch]

When Old Glory Was YoungHe heard that lone bell ringing, in the old town squarekissed sweet Ann...grabbed his musket, left on a spotted marewell, Annie watched her husband, vanish in a misty grovesaid a prayer and called for Sara, to put water on the stoveshe sat beside a lantern, sipped her steaming teatalked softly to Sara, 'bout the true and the freewhen old glory was youngand her stars were still being bornwhen battle hymns were sungfor the union being formedwho could know, so long agowhat the nation could becomewhen old glory was youngthe tree line exploded, with powder, screams and smokecrimson stains felt welcome, on bright red coatsthe victors were a rabble, of farmers and silversmithsthe wounded danced silent waltzes, then surrendered to deathwars are won from the ground up, with infantry and gravesand prayerful shouts that heaven, will always bless the bravewhen old glory was youngand her stars were still being bornwhen battle hymns were sungfor the union being formedwho could know, so long agowhat the nation could becomewhen old glory was youngAnnie slept by her window, her dreams watching the black they spied a rider approaching, with a three-pointed hatwhile he lifted her softly, laid her gently to bedSara boiled another kettle, then served him tea and breadhe fell asleep thankful, for breath and libertySara returned to her quarters, and thought of the true and freewhen old glory was youngand her stars were still being bornwhen battle hymns were sungfor the union being formedwho could know, so long agowhat the nation could becomewhen old glory was young(c)2005 Robert George