The Nation Builders
look upon this great, free, land.
that we did not give our lives in vain ....
you not hold your head high for our triumph?
should be proud of the deeds that we accomplished.
that we did not give our lives to watch that freedom
lesser men than we ....
echo of our passing still reverberates through the ages.
first light will mirror our success.
came the call as Paul Revere rode.
across the common, revealed our first volley.
did we ask, but for only our freedom.
we gave our souls willingly,
we stood in ravaged rank and file.
came to the call ....
from the four corners of this New World,
the beckoning cry of nobler men ....
Minutemen, we took our stand,
fall will not see our passing,
words will avow our valor;
like the stars across blue field.
lives must count the cost,
across the years of oppression;
lay across the back of this humble people,
ready to stake our claim to our God given right.
we looked upon our future as
glorious across the Heavens.
the fields of Saratoga, to
snows of Valley Forge,
was our quest for freedom;
or Die, Liberty or Death!
the walls our echo will ring,
cry of Liberty in our lungs,
to be taken ... Or shorn with our dead,
laid our lives willingly on the throne of Revolution,
by a world without care.
you not proud of our deeds?
willing were we to sacrifice ourselves;
as only the oppressed can be,
from our homes, our farms,
our servitude ....
fear of failure, no longer an option,
across the horizon would not sway our longing.
in legionous rank held our gaze, the
of crimson Sun on cold steel, chilled our blood.
English could not sway our courage, as
crashed against McHenry,
across the ramparts.
our sacrifice you may hold your head high ....
in your lungs has the taste of Liberty ....
in sacrifice without thought on blood soaked field
we held dear, in our own Declaration.
canister and cannonade we weathered the storm,
banshees howl of chain-shot through the corn.
brings salvation to our soul ....
gentle lull of calm within the storm.
bodies raked with pain in scarecrow's garb,
ne'r faltered in gentle, silent breeze.
this the field that brought us to our knees? No!
we stand on freedom's gallant eve ....
some still remain in silent grave.
look upon these gardens of cold stone,
you still believe in freedom's call,
our sacrifice mean so little,
you can drag this flag upon the earth?
is that crimson, white and blue
slashed by shot and shell and brave men's blood.
this banner still stands, caressed by gentle
September's silent tears,
call to freedom has moved on to younger child.
purged by war will yield a new generation
Minutemen ready to answer the call.
drums of oppression will beat loudly.
men ... Our sons and daughters will answer the call;
give their lives, as their fathers' fathers once did,
urge ... To Free the Oppressed ....
will wait for their return, and
sacrifice in blood ....
mothers once again will mourn, the
and the fallen, in the name of Liberty.
by Lee Gudgin
... who is a former British soldier now living in the United
States; currently working with graphite arts and freelance