At midnight in a flaming angry town I saw my country's flag lying torn upon the ground. I ran in and dodged among the crowd, And scooped it up, and scampered out to safety.
And then I took this striped old piece of cloth And tried my best to wash the garbage off. But I found it had been used to wrapping lies. It smelled and stank and attracted all the flies.
While I was feverishly at my task, I heard a husky voice that seemed to ask: "Do you think you could change me just a bit? Betsy Ross did her best, but she made a few mistakes.
My blue is good, the color of the sky. The stars are good for ideals, oh, so high. Seven stripes of red are strong to meet all danger; But those white stripes: they, they need some changing.
I need also some stripes of deep, rich brown, And some of tan and black, then all around A border of God's gracious green would look good there. Maybe you should slant the stripes, then I'd not be so square."
I woke and said, "What a ridiculous story. Don't let anybody say I suggested tampering with Old Glory." But tonight it's near midnight, and in another flaming town Once again I hear my country's flag lies torn upon the groundTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
