Independence Day
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That Ol' Red, White and Blue
My ol’ man was a soldier back in WWII.
My mom was a nurse on a hospital ship
In that same ol’ big war, too.
I remember, as a kid, how they hung out the flag
On a special day or two,
But I was too young to really understand
About that ol’ red, white and blue.
So they taught me how to put my hand on my heart
When the flag passed by in review.
And to take off my hat as a sign of respect
For the things that flag could do.
And that every little thing she stood for
Really stood for me and you.
And hey, every day’s the Fourth of July
For that ol’ red, white and blue.
Chorus
Every day’s the Fourth of July
For that ol’ red, white and blue.
A tie that binds, a spirit that shines
And it shines the whole year through.
And every little thing she stands for
Really stands for me and you,
Hey, every day’s the Fourth of July
For that ol’ red, white and blue.
Well, both of my folks are gone now,
That’s just the way it goes.
You’re here for a while, a tear and a smile,
They left me more than heaven knows.
And all those little thing they stood for
They did ‘em for me and you
And hey, every day’s the Fourth of July
For that ol’ red, white and blue.
Chorus
© 2001, DW Groethe, from Tales from West River
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Read more of DW Groethe's poetry here.
For the Freedom
The snow’s all but gone from the Sangre de Cristos
The high country soon will be bare
As the cottonwoods bloom along the sleepy slow Cimarron
Oh, how I wished I was thereI’ll bet Danny has grown a foot since I’ve been gone
Little Katie turns seven this spring
Just hold them and kiss them
And tell them I love them, for who knows what tomorrow might bringChorus:
Raise the stars and stripes for me every morning
Say a prayer for me each night
Remember, remember, please, always remember
It’s for the freedom we love, that I fight
It’s for the freedom we love that I fightGot a letter from Dad, some cookies from Momma
Got the card that you sent, yesterday
And I carry your picture in my left front pocket
It sort of helps me when I am afraid‘Cause this desert’s a hell, when the wind blows the sand up
The nights here are black, cold and long
But from what I can tell, the folks here sure need us
And that’s why I’m singing this songRepeat Chorus
The Captain just came in and gave us our orders
I’ll guess we’ll be moving out soon
Just know that I love you and if something should happen
You and the kids, Dear, will know what to doRepeat Chorus
© 2005, R. W. Hampton, All rights reserved, from I Believe
These lyrics may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.This song was selected as the 2006 Western Music Association Song of the Year
Read more of R. W. Hampton's lyrics here.
Michael Bia
You spent your childhood wild and free,
And none of us could then foresee
How you'd touch our lives, or to what degree.
We never knew you, Michael Bia.
You life was in the land and sky;
Vermillion cliffs and mesas high.
These were yours to occupy.
You were of Diné, Michael Bia.You rode the bulls and rode them well,
But you wouldn't leave the reservation's Citadel
Though it was known you could excel.
Ah, you could ride 'em Michael Bia.The White House called; you left your land,
And off you went to Viet Nam,
To a war you did not understand.
You did your duty, Michael Bia.
You fought with honor and with pride,
But before the fighting could subside
In that far off land, you died.
You gave the ultimate, Michael Bia.
At Window Rock in sixty-eight
They turned a bull out of the gate,
And his bell rang loud to reiterate
Our thank you, Michael Bia.
Dine [mark], and white men, too
Stood and shed a tear for you;
And though your time on earth is through
May God keep you, Michael Bia.
Now often when I think of the past
Or cross that reservation vast,
Or see Old Glory at half-mast,
I think of Michael Bia.
Ya'at'eeh, Hastiin! (Ya-ta-hey, Has-teen!)
© 2001, Chris Isaacs, from Rhymes, Reasons and Pack Saddle Proverbs
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.Diné is what the Navajos call themselves; it means "The People."
Chris Isaacs writes about this poem:
There are things that happen in our lives that we have absolutely no control over, which become a part of us forever. Such was the case with the poem about Michael Bia.
I got out of the U. S. Marine Corps in January of 1967 just as things were really starting to heat up in Vietnam. Michael Bia was leading the bull riding standings for the AIRCA when he was drafted and sent to Viet Nam just about the time I was discharged. He never came home.In 1968 my wife Helen and I were at the Fourth of July rodeo in Window Rock, Arizona, where I was entered when something happened that haunted me for years. The Navajo tribe paid tribute to Michael Bia at that rodeo by taking his chaps and spurs and attaching them to a bull with Michael's bull rope and then turning the bull loose in the arena during a moment of silence. Nothing has ever affected me quite like that short moment of tribute to a fellow cowboy/comrade-in-arms, and I have thought of it many, many times over the years...The first time that I tried to recite it, I broke down and cried, which kept me from trying it again for quite a while. Then in 1997 at the Elko Cowboy Poetry Gathering I was on the Veterans' Session with Joel Nelson, Rod McQueary, and some others, and managed to get through the entire thing...I have had many Vets thank me for the poem, which means a great deal to me...I did a show near Washington, D. C. a few years ago, and made it to the Wall (the Vietnam Memorial) where I found Michael's name...
excerpted from Chris Isaacs' Will Rogers Medallion Award winning book, Rhymes, Reasons and Pack Saddle Proverbs
Read more of Chris Isaacs' poetry here.
The Flag Out on the Ranch
It was an old and faded flag but it was always there,
for visitors to see it freely waving in the air.
He'd say "I always fly it every time I get a chance,
although I know it's odd to see it out here on this ranch."
And when you'd ask about it, his face would beam with joy
he'd tell how he went off to war when he was but a boy.
He said it changed him to a man and changed him much too fast
from scenes imprinted on his mind .but that is in the past.
He lost a lot of comrades but somehow his life was spared;
and pleased him so when folks would fly their flag to show they cared.
Then said, "I hope you'll fly one, and never take it down
even though you're in the country and a long long way from town.
'cause there's still a lot of boys fighting hard to keep us free
although it may be for a cause in which you disagree."
Now, ever since that day when he explained this all to me
I know just why he flies it when it's just for him to see.
It's to show appreciation for those who gave their best,
and that flag is always flying on his ranch there in the West.© 2006, Yvonne Hollenbeck
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Read about Yvonne Hollenbeck and more of her poetry here.
Cutter Bill's 4th Of JulyA Cowboy 4th of July
In the life of an early-day cowboy
the only two days he could rest
were Christmas that came in the winter
and July the Fourth which was best.
Cause no one could ever out-holler
or let his whole spirit soar high
as a just-off-the-range happy cowboy
when it came to the Fourth of July.
Independence was more than a "Day," boys:
twas his way of life, don't you see,
and he weren't about to miss showin'
just how much it meant to be free.
The cow towns knew that much about him;
they plum went all out for the Fourth.
They opened the town to the trailhands,
who'd come in by wagon or horse.
Tweren't nuthin' could dampen their spirits,
or keep any trailhand away,
and no one could hold back a cowboy
from kickin' his heels up that day.
There was music and dancin' and fireworks,
declarations, and ,not. just a few.
a free-for-all town celebration,
all decked out in red, white and blue.
They were proud of this land and this nation,
and showed it for any to see.
Today we might bolster our own pride
rememberin' our own history.
In the life of an early-day cowboy
the only two days he could rest
were Christmas that came in the winter
and July the Fourth which was best.
© 2004, Rod Nichols
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
The heavens were gleaming near twilight.
They reined in at Cutter Bill's Bar.
Some bunting was strung 'cross the outside
in red, white and blue with some stars.For a moment they sat there in silence,
just gazin' at what they now saw.
The colors they knew of Ol' Glory
now held all them cowboys in awe.There weren't any words to be uttered
The silence held all of their thoughts.
That symbol of freedom and justice
said more than some eloquent talk.Somewhere in the distance were fireworks,
they lit up behind Cutter Bill's.
Twas then to a man as they looked on
they all felt the same sudden chill..There weren't any songs set to music,
There wasn't a bit of fanfare,
just red, white and blue beneath Heaven,
and the glow from the rockets' red glare.A moment in time to remember,
the reason we honor today,
the birth, under God , of a nation,
the home of the free and the brave.They never stepped down 'fore they left there.
For somehow in ways unexplained,
they'd seen all that they needed seein'
and rode back the way that they came.There's a time in all men's life I reckon,
like the time outside Cutter Bill's Bar,
when they feel for the first time that feelin'
and know without doubt who they are.The heavens were gleaming near twilight.
They reined in at Cutter Bill's Bar.
Some bunting was strung 'cross the outside
in red, white and blue with some stars.For a moment they sat there in silence,
just gazin' at what they now saw.
The colors they knew of Ol' Glory
just holding them cowboys in awe.© 2007, Rod Nichols
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Read more of Rod Nichols' poetry here.
Phylo Jenks's Bath
One of the ways that we'd celebrate
When the Fourth of July come 'round
Was t'burn all our long-handled underwear
Right out on the desert ground
A lotta the cowpokes that I rode with
Would put 'em on in November
So takin' 'em off on the Fourth of July
Meant most of the boys'd remember
But Phylo Jenks he was somethin' else
He missed the Fourth one year
He wore his long-handles twenty-two months
His horse wouldn't let 'im git near
Y'cain't be a cowpoke without you kin ride
So he went out an' bought 'im a mule
He figgered a jackass wouldn't object
But this jackass was nobody's fool
When Phylo got on 'er the mule threw 'im off
An' he was extremely upset
T'have a ol' jackass refuse to be rode
Is as bad as it ever will get
Our wrangler said Phylo you surely do stink
An' if yer a wonderin' why
Maybe you'd oughta go out with the boys
'Cause today is the Fourth of July
An' Phylo said really I wouldn't of knowed
I never been good at the date
He walked to the desert an' when he got there
The boys said Hey, Phylo, yer late
The way that he smells said ol' Hiram McFee
I don't think that late's quite the phrase
Git outta them long-handles, do it right now
An' throw them things there on the blaze
The smell was so terrible no one could breathe
An' great was those pore cowpokes' wrath
They hoisted ol' Phylo right up in the air
An' someone yelled give 'im a bath
Well sir, they done it, an' he was impressed
An' on this thing you kin rely
Phylo will be at the head of the line
Right here the next Fourth of July
© 2001, Hal Swift, from Cowboy Poems and Outright Lies
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Read more of Hal Swift's poetry here.
