America

America The Beautiful

O beautiful for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesties
Above thy fruited plain

America, America
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea

For beautiful for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain
America, America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crowned thy good, with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

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I am the flag of the United States of America 

My name is Old Glory. 
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings. 
I stand watch in America's halls of justice. 
I fly majestically over institutions of learning. 
I stand guard with power in the world. 

Look up at me and see me. 
I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice. 
I stand for freedom.  I am confident. 
I am arrogant.  I am proud. 

When I am flown with my fellow banners, 
my head is a little higher, my colors
 a little truer. I bow to no one! 

I am recognized all over the world. 
I am worshipped - I am saluted. 
I am loved - I am revered. 
I am respected - and I am feared. 

I have fought in every battle of every 
war for more then 200 years. 
I was flown at Valley Forge,
 Gettysburg, 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.  
And yes, Okinawa, Korea, Khe Sanh & Saigon. 

Yes, I was there.  I led my troops. 
I was dirty, battleworn 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 soldiers, 
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.

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