Souls of bygone eras scorch

The glowing altar, liberty’s porch.

Rough men’s veins split for those profound

For weaker folks inactions inter the rows.

No recompense, no justice, for those rough men, I suppose.

Torch is carried, weighty and tarried

Begins to sag my shoulders wearied.

The strain of that yoke, those friends who can’t joke,

Won’t lighten on its own, the pain bespoke.

Our foundational foundation is heard a deafening moan

Sacrifices many, some to the bone.

Many gave all and all cared not

Our blessed country, an uncommon plot.