Posts Tagged ‘Patriotic Poetry’

Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam

May 14, 2012

Image from Wind Turbine Syndrome

UNCLE SAM OUR LEADER.

(Tune, “Baby Mine.”) [also called “Crawdad Song“]

Hark! I hear our Chief a-coming,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam;
And the bells are all a-ringing,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Comes a shout from o’er the main,
Glorious Chief is the refrain,
And they shout it once again,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Uncle Sam.

We will lift a million praises,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Till the vault of heaven raises,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Till the world rings out the note
As if from a single throat,
“May your flag forever float,”
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
“May your flag forever float,”
Uncle Sam.

When we hear our country calling,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
From the ranks will none be falling,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Rich and poor, like soldiers true,
We will all be proud of you,
Chief who dares to think and do,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Chief who dares to think and do,
Uncle Sam.

You have writ a golden page,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
In this busy, bustling age,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
And the nation’s grand advance
You will mightily enhance,
Giving every man a chance,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Giving every man a chance,
Uncle Sam.

A good, solid working place,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Counting neither caste nor race,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Your bright flag we’ll ever see
Floating o’er this land so free,
Glorious home of liberty,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Glorious home of liberty,
Uncle Sam.

Foe to none on land or sea,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Save to foes of liberty,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Smite der kaiser’s warlike mien,
Smash his hellish submarine,
Give this world a brighter sheen,
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam,
Give this world a brighter sheen,
Uncle Sam.

— B.J. Price, a Former Oshkosh Man.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jul 18, 1917

Image from The Long and Short of it All

My Land – Ireland

March 16, 2012

She is rich and rare land;
Oh, she’s a fresh and fair land!
She is a dear and rare land —
This native land of mine.

No men than hers are braver —
Her women’s hearts ne’er waver;
I’d freely die to save her
And think my lot divine.

She’s not a dull or cold land —
No! she’s a warm and bold land;
Oh, she’s a true and old land —
This native land of mine.

Could beauty ever guard her,
And virture still reward her,
No foe could cross her border,
No friend within it pine.

Oh, she’s a fresh and fair land!
Oh, she’s a true and rare land!
Yes, she’s a rare and fair land —
This native land of mine.

–Thomas Davis.

Edwardsville Intelligencer (Edwardsville, Illinois) Mar 16, 1892