Each
time I see "Old Glory" wave,
Against
a clear blue sky,
I
ask myself the question,
Why
did Johnnie have to die?

He
went away in ’43,
He
knew he took a chance,
They
buried him, "A Hero",
In
a soldier’s grave in France.
Each
time I read the paper, with,
It’s
violence and crime,
And
crooked politicians,
As
they wallow in their grime,

The
riots, strikes, the cults and drugs,
And
those denouncing God,
I
think about our Johnnie,
Lying
there, beneath the sod.
He
gave his life to freedom,
There
was nothing more to give,
Our
thanks to him is sounded,
By
the way in which we live.

Each
time I see "Old Glory" wave,
A
tear comes to my eye,
And
still the question haunts me,
Why
did Johnnie have to die?
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