Midi start & stop
I was flown at Valley Forge,
Shiloh and Appamatox.
I was there at San Juan Hill,
the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome
and the beaches of Normandy, Guam.
Okinawa, Korea and KheSan,
Saigon, Vietnam know me,
I was there.
I led my troops,
I was dirty, battle worn and tired,
but my soldiers cheered me
And I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled
on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible.
I have been soiled upon, burned, torn
and trampled on the streets of my country.
And when it's by those whom I've served in battle -- it hurts.
But I shall overcome -- for I am strong.
I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space
from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness
to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.
When I am torn into strips
and used as bandages
for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms
of a grieving parent
at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
I am proud.
MY NAME IS OLD GLORY
LONG MAY I WAVE.
DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN
LONG MAY I WAVE
Poem by: Harold Schnauber
Iwo Jima Photographer: Joe Rosenthal
PLEASE FORWARD MY MESSAGE TO ALL WHO
STILL LOVE AND RESPECT ME,
THAT I MAY FLY PROUDLY FOR
ANOTHER TWO HUNDRED YEARS.
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