I walked through a county courthouse square. On a park bench, an old man

was sitting there.

I said, "Your county courthouse looks kind of run-down." He said, "Nah,

it'll do for our little town." I said, "Your old flagpole's leaned a little bit, And

that's a ragged old flag you've got hanging on it."

He said, "Have a seat," and I sat down. "Is this the first time you've been to

our little town?" I said, "I believe it is."

He said, "I don't like to brag, But we're kind of proud of that ragged old

flag. You see, we've got a little hole in that flag there from when Washington

took it across the Delaware. And it got powder burns the night Francis Scott

Key sat watching it, writing, "Oh Say Can You See." And it got a bad rip

down in New Orleans with Packingham and Jackson tugging at its seams. She

almost fell at the Alamo, next to the Texas flag, but she waved on, though.

She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville, and she got cut again at Shiloh

Hill. There were Robert E. Lee, Beauregard, and Bragg, and the southwinds

blew hard on that ragged old flag. On Flanders Field, in World War I, she got

a big hole from a Bertha gun. She turned blood-red in World War II. She's

hung limp and low a time or two.

She was in Korea and Viet Nam, and she went where she was sent by her Uncle Sam.

(end revision)

She waved from our ships upon the briny foam, but they've about quit

waving her back here at home. In her own good land, she's been abused, she's

been burned, dishonored, denied, and refused, and the government for which

she stands is scandalized throughout the lands. She's looking threadbare and

wearing thin, But she's in good shape for the shape she's in. 'Cause she's been

through the fire before, and I believe she can take a whole lot more. So we

raise her up every morning and bring her down every night. We don't let her

touch the ground, and we fold her up right. On second thought, I do like to

brag ... 'Cause I'm mighty proud of that Ragged Old Flag."