The Patriot

Old Glory is smartly marched down the aisle
when the opening ceremonies start
and deep inside my chest there grows a smile;
as the anthem plays my hand warms my heart.

Balances and checks will hold to our course;
it matters little who keeps warm the seat,
liberty's yoked beside fortune's dray horse
nation rumbles on through reign and tweet.

No party int’rests hold my allegiance
because working people can’t earn their scratch;
hope’s fruition never seems all or once
to save farm or even a garden patch.

Endure and outlast is always the key
but don’t look to Washington to save you;
outsiders become insiders with glee
and little folk are ground for morning brew.

Yet the flag waves in breeze as music plays
my heart swells in pride despite bad choices;
the air itself is electric with praise
glory to people raising their voices.