THE BLOODY OLD RAG

There’s a tattered and bloody old rag
Which jingoists call to rejoice;
And racists and bigots all brag
For which millions have died, by free choice.

For millions, the banner has killed
Some claim that they all had to die;
Re corpses whose life it has stilled
Some will tell almost any old lie.

It’s a wicked old banner of hatred
That brings to the nation great shame;
Moth-riddled yet some over-rate
Pretending we should not ‘cept blame.

It’s a bloody old guidon of death
That teaches us all how to hate;
Till we speak evil with e'ery breath
All for bigotry we cannot sate.

It’s a worthless piece of the old
That keeps us from embracing the new;
And with every corpse that turns cold
We will sing for the Red, White, and Blue!

THE END
© Copyright 2021, Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia