Liberty's Child
by Marsha Burks Megehee
night when shadows creep
Abe Lincoln wanders marble halls, some say they've heard him weep
The shadow of General Washington was lately seen around
Observing the Halls of Congress, where truth could not be found
Old Thomas Paine is near insane, bereaved by the Nation's course
Old Hickory rides down shadowed lanes
mustering a ghostly force
Pale shadows of Lee and Traveler, whom
our Nation once divorced
There, led with pride by General Lee- John Kennedy's riderless horse
To the East rides Osceola, our land's great Seminole
Still willing to fight for his country
With his warriors brave and bold
To the West march the Coolie railroad men whose blood spread the Nation West
God knows this Land was blessed
Over there march the souls of World War One, grandfathers, fathers, sons
There's Patton's tanks, MacArthur's men
their battles just begun
And in a place of honor- a rag-tag army stands
Thin and frail from the prison camps
sad eyes and outstretched hands
Still proud to fight for America, though
their souls don't understand
Why their Country left them there in a God-forsaken land
A Storm of Spirits, shore to shore, those
dead who keeps us free
Mustering up a ghostly force-they're sounding reveille
They plan to march on Washington, who else would have more right?
"Your leaders lack integrity, they've lost the peoples' trust
We're whispering ever to Patriots-though our bodies long were dust
It's n'er too late, we must revive this spirit of our birth
For long as this Nation shall survive, true Freedom stalks the Earth
It stalks the sleep of tyrants, who fear to wake each morn
To find through Freedom's Darkest Night
Liberty's Child reborn
Behind the wire called "Devil's rope", inside forced labor camps
We whisper words to kindle hope, new fire for Freedom's Lamp
Can you hear us ring Old Liberty's Bell?
Can you feel our ghostly glance?
You've drawn too deep from Freedom's Well - and this is your last chance!
And if there's no tomorrow, an unseen Army waves
The Flag-Once called Old Glory, o'er Freedom's hallowed grave."
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Some say there's ghostly marching at
Brave Buffalo Soldiers, Mountain Men
Tom Jefferson's busy writing, 'neath candles of eerie light