 We're facing a storm in the mighty USA; Encroaching o'er the distant shore. Fear of tomorrow, uncertainty of today, We've not faced this opponent before. Sweet land of liberty, Make ready the stage; The curtain's about to descend. We're approaching the chapter's final page, It's no longer a game of pretend. Our beloved Old Glory, Slipped down half-mast, "Omit words in her creed," someone proposes. Quite frankly; the last straw; majority opposes. Miss Liberty; in the harbor, Suffered a deadly blow; To her pride, when the planes came that day. She stood helplessly by; amid the fiery glow, Silently, she asked Americans to pray. Our enemies seek the execution of; Our brothers, our sisters, our sons. We must be diligent, we must not fail; Til every battle is won. Beloved Americans, we must protect our land; Beside her, and, "Under God," we must stand. From every mountaintop we must sing; Crush out the enemy; Let Freedom Ring. |
| Author Dottie Perkins If you would like to contact Dorthy Perkins in regards to this poem you may do so by Clicking here |
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