The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
1. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
2. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
3. |
1. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
5. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
6. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
7. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. | II |
3. |
4. |
8. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
9. |
The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | ||
1915
II
Old Glory,—speak out!—we are asking about
How you happened to “favor” a name, so to say,
That sounds so familiar and careless and gay
As we cheer it and shout in our wild breezy way—
We—the crowd, every man of us, calling you that—
We—Tom, Dick, and Harry—each swinging his hat
And hurrahing “Old Glory!” like you were our kin,
When—Lord!—we all know we're as common as sin!
And yet it just seems like you humor us all
And waft us your thanks, as we hail you and fall
Into line, with you over us, waving us on
Where our glorified, sanctified betters have gone.—
And this is the reason we're wanting to know—
(And we're wanting it so!—
Where our own fathers went we are willing to go.)—
Who gave you the name of Old Glory—Oho!—
Who gave you the name of Old Glory?
How you happened to “favor” a name, so to say,
That sounds so familiar and careless and gay
As we cheer it and shout in our wild breezy way—
We—the crowd, every man of us, calling you that—
We—Tom, Dick, and Harry—each swinging his hat
And hurrahing “Old Glory!” like you were our kin,
When—Lord!—we all know we're as common as sin!
And yet it just seems like you humor us all
And waft us your thanks, as we hail you and fall
Into line, with you over us, waving us on
Where our glorified, sanctified betters have gone.—
And this is the reason we're wanting to know—
(And we're wanting it so!—
Where our own fathers went we are willing to go.)—
Who gave you the name of Old Glory—Oho!—
Who gave you the name of Old Glory?
The old flag unfurled with a billowy thrill
For an instant, then wistfully sighed and was still.
For an instant, then wistfully sighed and was still.
The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | ||