Quotes about flag, page 70
Bible Bob
Bible Bob in his bib overalls
and his mid-chest beard
his bible and flag
went to preach to the prospectors of gold
he rode on the shoulders of a giant named Jerimiah
who with one arm conquered all arms at Petaluma
and Bible Bob scolded the gold diggers
the lillies who passed through the field
with short skirts and too much make-up
for which they were sure to hell damned
and through the megaphone crisply
his fire and brim stone drew laughter
as the giant let him down to earth
for as he rode on the shoulders of a giant
his union flap remained insecure
and one full buttock of Bob's
was exposed to the crowd he had drawn
and Jerimiah held the megaphone
while Bible Bob buttoned his flap
poem by George Murdock
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Battle-Flags Of Illinois
Through the red dusk of war they flew
From Shiloh to the sea.
Black fumes from shattered bolts that blew
Withered the colors three,
And crimson rains made sombre stains.
For every flag a grave—yes, more—
For each a score of graves.
Crossed are the heroes' hands that bore,
No wind the furled folds waves.
Sweet be their rest, by soft peace blest.
Is there no end? What mighty host
Of spirits ranged for war
The signal of the Holy Ghost
Shall summon hence afar!
Vast armies wait in solemn state.
Where valor fights for freedom—there,
Till the last slave is free,
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poem by Harriet Monroe
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Empty minds filled with pride
Empty minds filled with pride
Naked to a suit
Blown without a cause
See their body's falling
In a blood scared land of fear
Hear them call, hear them calling
Who's the master of my fate?
And why do I wait…
And why do I want…
And why do I wait...
And why do I want to die…
Oh bring me a white flag
To wash the blood from my face
And bring me a virgin
Of saving grace
And let love be the price
I said let love be the price
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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Where is the Slave
Oh, where's the slave so lowly,
Condemn'd to chains unholy,
Who, could he burst
His bonds at first,
Would pine beneath them slowly?
What soul, whose wrongs degrade it,
Would wait till time decay'd it,
When thus its wing
At once may spring
To the throne of Him who made it?
Farewell, Erin, -- farewell, all,
Who live to weep our fall!
Less dear the laurel growing,
Alive, untouch'd and blowing,
Than that whose braid
Is pluckd to shade
The brows with victory glowing.
We tread the land that bore us,
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poem by Thomas Moore
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Honour The Good Living
Honour the good living and respect the dead
And learn from the past as a wise one once said
Though many leaders never learn from history
Wise people do not become political leaders it does seem to me,
The war supposed to end all wars was fought decades ago
and still the numbers of the war dead does grow
The war like leaders war before peace do choose
But of war it is said that even winners do lose
Of love of their Country some are known to brag
Though such people carry their pride in a flag
Patriotic fervour the path to war lead
And less of Nationalism in the World we do need
We should learn from the past and then look ahead
And honour the good living and respect the dead.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Bleed Red, White and Blue
I’m the soldier who defends,
I bleed red, white and blue.
Not for our local politicians,
rather I selflessly bleed for you.
I bleed red for your freedom,
the one I protect at any cost.
Crimson colors ensuring that
your civil rights are never lost.
I bleed white for a noble cause,
not a political agenda you see.
Ivory hues this soldier spews,
to protect and shelter you and me.
I bleed blue for all your children,
and their children just the same.
Blue shades this soldier emanates,
all I ask is you remember my name.
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poem by Stacy Stiles
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Post Grand Final '2008
Don't want to hear or to see the Grand Final replay
We know the results it was played yesterday
The Hawks of Hawthorn beat the Cats of Geelong
The experts and punters this time got it wrong
The favourites as we know in finals sometimes get beat
And for the team, club and supporters no joy in defeat
But there's always next year a new football season begin
But as in life one has to lose for another to win
The Hawthorn Club and their fans celebrate
Their own piece of history they did create
At Glenferrie Oval flies the Premiership flag
The winners are happy the winners can brag
In football as in life one's loss is another one's gain
But next year the losers for glory they can try again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Soldiers Heart
sir
i am no normal person
i was no normal child
brought up in the country
one view in my mind
this country we live in
this place we call home
this is my england
with honour to the thrown
i'd fight for queen and country
if the call was made
i'd fight under the flag
this is my way
people think im crazy
people think im mad
this is no normal heart
it is the heart of the soldier
born and bred a soldier
the title i never took
instead im known as police officer
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To Every Fallen Soldier
-- * TO EVERY FALLEN SOLDIER * --
The honor of the Country
Given to a Hero true.
This honorable young soldier
Who died for me and you.
To every fallen soldier
No matter, heritage or creed,
Who fought bravely for country
Due to someone else's greed.
Returned in flag draped coffin
No more laughter or joy to share.
A solemn trip into the prairie.....
A Spirit Crossing, there......
As Mothers weep in sorrow
Wives crying out in pain,
The earthly presence of this child
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poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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Grey Windows...
grey windows, grey buildings,
grey streets, grey skies...
grey figures staring,
grey deals are done!
manipulate gas prices,
manipulate food...
manipulate the economy,
manipulate the election.
right and wrong,
never thought of.
hungry mouths and desperation.
win the war,
never raise a gun,
bodies strewn everywhere!
money makes gods,
without conscience or morals.
human lives just tokens,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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