I called to them but they were gone
Yet still I hear their crys
Of Rebel yells and cannon shells
Then silent bye and bye
So it is that we are born
Of Patriot Rebel kin
For us the shackles torn away
Moved forward from our sin
From Kings we came, slave and master
Down to brothers in the end
Tightly grip the thread that binds us
Lest we be torn from the limb
We alone of all the nations
Shed our blood for freedoms call
So Gods' blessings do abound us
Save us even when we fall
Ner' forget the ones who've served us
Honor every end of May
Cheer the brave and weary soldier
Here at home and far away
The poetry of Beto Ochoa, Prose from a spiritual warrior
Aware
The Poetry Of Beto Ochoa~ Prose from a spiritual warrior
Monday, May 28, 2007
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