I watched the flag pass by one day, it flutered in the breeze,
A young man in uniform saluted it, and then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform- so young ,so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert, he'd stand out in a crowd.
I thought how many men like him have fallen thru the years?
How many died on foreign soil?
How many mothers tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea?
How many foxholes were soliers graves?
No freedom is not free.
I heard the sound of Taps one night, when everything was still.
I listened to the bugler play and felt a sudden chill.
I wondered how many times the taps had meant "Amen'
When a flag had draped a coffin of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children, of mothers and of wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands, with interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard at the bottom of the sea,
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No freedom isn't free.
It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us the 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 who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag, and whos coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protester to burn the flag.
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A young man in uniform saluted it, and then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform- so young ,so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert, he'd stand out in a crowd.
I thought how many men like him have fallen thru the years?
How many died on foreign soil?
How many mothers tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea?
How many foxholes were soliers graves?
No freedom is not free.
I heard the sound of Taps one night, when everything was still.
I listened to the bugler play and felt a sudden chill.
I wondered how many times the taps had meant "Amen'
When a flag had draped a coffin of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children, of mothers and of wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands, with interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard at the bottom of the sea,
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No freedom isn't free.
It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us the 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 who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag, and whos coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protester to burn the flag.
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