Classic Poem

There's a
feeling comes astealing and it sets my brain a reeling, When I'm
list'ning to the music of a military band. Any
tune like “Yankee Doodle” simply sets me off my noodle, It's that
patriotic something that no one can understand.
“Way down South in the land of cotton,” melody un-
tiring, Ain't that inspiring! Hurrah! Hur-
rah! We'll join the jubilee, And that's going
some for the Yankees, by gum! Red, White and Blue,
I am for you, Honest, you're a grand old flag.
I'm no
cranky, hanky panky, I'm a dead square honest Yankee, And I'm
mighty proud of that old flag that flies for Uncle Sam. Though I
don't believe in raving ev'ry time I see it waving, There's a
chill runs up my back that makes me glad I'm what I am.
Here's a land with a million soldiers, that's if we should
need 'em, We'll fight for freedom! Hurrah! Hur-
rah! For ev'ry Yankee Tar And old G. A.
R., ev'ry stripe, ev'ry star, Red, White and Blue,
Hats off to you, Honest, you're a grand old flag.
You're a grand old flag tho'you're torn to a rag, And forever in
peace may you wave. You're the emblem of the land I love, The
home of the free and the brave. Ev'ry heart beats true under Red, White and
Blue, Where there's never a boast or brag; “But should auld acquaintance
be forgot,” Keep your eye on the grand old flag. You're a flag.