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?