The Torn Flag

At midnight in a flaming angry town
I saw my flag lying torn upon the ground
I ran in and dodged among the crowd
And scooped it up and scampered out

And then I took that striped old piece of cloth
And tried my best to wash the garbage off
But I found it had been used for wrapping lies
It stank and attracted all the flies

While I was working crazy in my task
I heard a husky voice that seemed to ask
"Do you think that you could change it just a bit?
Betsy Ross did good, but she made some mistakes

Well blue is good, the color of the sky
And stars are good for ideals, so high
Seven stripes of red to meet all danger
But them white stripes: they could use some changing

We'll also need some stars of deep, rich brown
And some of tan and black, then all around
A border of God's green would look good there
Maybe slant the stripes, they wouldn't look so square."

I woke and said, "What a crazy story
Don't let 'em say I was messin' with Old Glory."
But tonight near midnight in another town
Again I see my country's flag lying torn upon the ground