Be grateful for our liberty

Beneath the green of Europe’s turf

There lies a son in silent earth.

Once warm within his mother’s womb

Now cold in lonely distant tomb.

A young man born on Kansas plain,

His mother now in endless pain.

An empty chair at dining table

She copes each day as best she’s able.

He marched away for liberty

And put to end that tyranny

That scourge, that beast of genocide

For that and more our soldier died.

O see these graves both far and near

Of sons their mothers held so dear

In British, French and Belgian land

And Iwo Jima’s blood-stained sand.

From Oregon to Buffalo

Mothers bereft, in endless woe.

For liberty paid they the price

Their very sons did sacrifice

So when we visit foreign land

Where lie our dead ‘neath green and sand

Let us pause and there reflect

And leave behind heartfelt respect.

O generations now in place

Let us n’er our dead disgrace

And we who are their progeny

Desist from taking mindless knee!

Be grateful for our liberty

And n’er allow that tyranny

Take mothers’ sons away to death

Those sons to give their dying breath!

Frank Tilton Lake Frederick

Frank Tilton

Lake Frederick

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