Ragged Old Flag

......a poem by Johnny Cash (and me).

I walked through a county courthouse square.
On a park bench, an old man was sittin’ there.
I said, “Your old court house is kinda run down”.
He said, “Naw, it’ll do for our little town”.

I said, “Your old flag pole is leaned a little bit,
And that’s a ragged old flag you got hangin’ on it”.
He said, “Have a seat”, and I sat down;
“Is this the first time you’ve been to our little town?”
I said, “I think it is”.

He said, “I don’t like to brag,
but we’re kinda proud
Of that Ragged Old Flag”.

“You see, we got a little hole in that flag there,
When Washington took it across the Delaware.
“And it got power burned the night Francis Scott Key
Sat watching it, writing, ‘Say Can You See’.

It got a bad rip in New Orleans,
With Packingham and Jackson tugging at its seams.
And it almost fell at the Alamo beside the Texas flag,
But she waved on, though.

“She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville
And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill.
There was Robert E. Lee and Beauregard and Bragg,
And the south wind blew hard on that Ragged Old Flag.

“On Flanders Field in WW I
She got a big hole from a Bertha Gun.
She turned blood red in WW II.
She hung limp, and low, a time or two.
She was in Korea and Vietnam;
She went where she was sent
By her Uncle Sam.

(Added by me:
“She flew high across Desert Storm.
When 9-11 hit, she carried a new form.
Across Afghanistan, in a whirlwind of fire
She waved on for freedom
As we held her up higher.

“Now it’s Iraq that’s taking its toll
With the terrorists’ struggle,
But she calls, ‘Let’s roll’.)

“She waved from our ships upon the briny foam
And now they’ve about quit wavin’ her back here at home.
In her own good land here she’s been abused,
She’s been burned, dishonored, denied and refused,
And the government, for which she stands,
is scandalized across the land.

“And she’s getting thread bare, and she’s wearin’ thin
But she’s in good shape, for the shape she’s in.
‘Cause she’s been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more.

So we raise her up every morning
And we take her down every night.
We don’t let her touch the ground
And we fold her up right.

“On second thought, I do like to brag;
‘Cause I’m mighty proud of that
Ragged Old Flag."
***************
As we approach Veteran's Day 2006, I feel a sense of patriotism swelling up inside of me. I wanted to repost this poem because I take pride in our American Flag and our Country. I know we have many problems; many people are dissatisfied with the way things are, yet, at the same time, many of us adapt and make the best of things.

It pains my heart to hear the roar of change. Thousands of new people come into our Country every year. It seems like many of them want to change our land into their "old country" ways. The winds of change appear to be driving dark clouds in our direction.

Where is the pride in protecting "our ways", that were established by our forefathers?