When I was raised on the pole so high,
To wave in the breeze as the people go by.
They stood at attention as I was raised,
Once on high they'd stand to gaze.

Lives were given in protection of me,
In wars on Land and battles at Sea.
But things have changed as time went by,
People don't care and I don't know why.

I have done nothing that I can see,
For them to lose their Respect for me.
I'll try to tell you what hurts me most,
As I fly so proudly on my post.

When it comes time to take me down,
They know I'm not to touch the ground.
But they don't care what they drag me through,
And they don't care what they have to do.

Instead of being folded in the proper way,
They roll me in a ball like an armful of hay.
Taken Inside to be stowed for the night,
In the closet or drawer just out of sight.

Some don't even bother to take me down,
They leave me up the whole year round.
They don't remember I need a light on me,
So at night the world will know and see.

How proud I am as I fly at night,
As I fly and wave in the beautiful light.
As I wave to those who pass me by,
They don't bother to look and I don't know why.

But it makes me sad as I wave on high,
Some people don't even take time to try.
To understand what I stood for them,
Stand for now, and way back when.

So here I am as I am told,
Folded up or even unrolled.
I'll wave up here and I won't sag,
And I'll still be known as your Grand Old Flag.

1989 Gerald Moothart, GCR, MA

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