America! my own dear land-
O, 'tis a lovely land to me;
I thank my God that I was born
Where man is free!
Our land- it is a glorious land-
And wide it spreads from sea to sea-
And sister States in Union join
And all are free.
I didn’t get much sleep last night
thinking about underwear
Have you ever stopped to consider
underwear in the abstract
When you really dig into it
some shocking problems are raised
Underwear is something we all have to deal with
some kind of underwear
Even Indians wear underwear
'Twas in the United States of America some years ago
An aged father sat at his fireside with his heart full of woe,
And talking to his neighbour, Mr Allan, about his boy Bennie
That was to be shot because found asleep doing sentinel duty.
'Inside of twenty-four hours, the telegram said,
And, oh! Mr Allan, he's dead, I am afraid.
Where is my brave Bennie now to me is a mystery.'
'We will hope with his heavenly Father,' said Mr Allen, soothingly.
OR, from that Sea of Time,
Spray, blown by the wind--a double winrow-drift of weeds and shells;
(O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless!
Yet will you not, to the tympans of temples held,
Murmurs and echoes still bring up--Eternity's music, faint and far,
Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica's rim--strains for the Soul of the
Whisper'd reverberations--chords for the ear of the West, joyously
Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable;)
I love thine inland seas,
Thy groves of giant trees,
Thy rolling plains;
Thy rivers' mighty sweep,
Thy mystic canyons deep,
Thy mountains wild and steep,
All thy domains;
Thy silver Eastern strands,
Thy Golden Gate that stands
As I look across America
What is it that I see?
A once strong and proud republic
That was all about opportunity...
As I look across the land
What is it that I see?
Hungry little children
With their arms stretched out to me...
America, born of original sin
Struggle for survival since its birth
Nation of immigrants who hate each other
children of love be our savior
A quaint, one room, busy place,
Full of good old southern grace,
Lay to the east of Hawthorn Hill,
Somewhat beyond the daffodills.
Over a field and past the cows,
Beneath the deep magnolia boughs;
Beside smooth, clear Crab Creek,
In the shadow of Cheyenne Peak;
Down a tree lined country lane,
Stood the school of Miss Chamberlain.
We are honoring those who fought and died for the USA.
We are honoring our deceased soldiers on Memorial Day.
Many soldiers fought and died so that every American can be free.
They were brave heroes and only communists would disagree.
Bob Dole fought and nearly died for his country during World War II.
The former Presidential candidate is a hero and that certainly is true.
I have only one more thing that I want to say.
God bless those who fought and died for the USA.
(I dedicate this poem to every soldier who fought and died for America's freedom.)
Bang bangContinue reading