Hoist the tri-part colors,
wave them on a stick,
unite and pull together,
vengeance should be quick.
Stand the guard, eye the sky,
patch up every rift,
let the flag define us
as we adroitly shift.

We know what they look like;
we’ll flush ‘em out like rats –
the gas pump guy, the cabbie,
the ones with funny hats.
They can run, but they can’t hide;
we’ll put them to the test.
God Bless America –
God damn all the rest.

09/29/2001

Posted on 09/29/2001
Copyright © 2024 Bruce W Niedt