The Daily Me
Feature 25 - February 10, 2003

Distant Drums
Dottie Perkins
We're facing a storm in the mighty USA;
Encroaching o'er the distant shore.
Fear of tomorrow, uncertainty of today,
We've not faced this opponent before.
Sweet land of liberty,
Make ready the stage;
The curtain's about to descend.
We're appoaching the chapter's final page,
It's no longer a game of pretend.
Our beloved Old Glory,
Slipped down half-mast,
"Omit words in her creed," someone proposes.
Quite frankly; the last straw; majority opposes.
Miss Liberty; in the harbor,
Suffered a deadly blow;
To her pride, when the planes came that day.
She stood helplessly by; amid the fiery glow,
Silently, she asked Americans to pray.
Our enemies seek the execution of;
Our brothers, our sisters, our sons.
We must be diligent, we must not fail;
Til every battle is won.
Beloved Americans, we must protect our land;
Beside her, and, "Under God," we must stand.
From every mountaintop we must sing;
Crush out the enemy; Let Freedom Ring.

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