AMERICAN BEAUTY
By
Tom Webb III - Rebel Poet
The American South's been well instructed
To change its ways to reconstructed.
Many a puffed-up potentate
Would have us quiet,
If not quite straight,
And make us pay for the cursed schools
To forge their tools of our good children.
They'd stir up curs in a land that cowers
‘till all is theirs and nothing ours,
Nothing but shame and blame and guilt,
Then take away our heroes' names
Where the heroes' lives were spilt.
Don't let it be,
With all your might,
Don't let it be!
Bequeath the youth the honest truth,
This land's in terrible plight.
We need our symbols flying free,
They're so much more
Than just a rite.
They make the past more real
To better build tomorrow.
There's a path that leads around
The trail that leads to sorrow.
It's the bridge across to yet an yonder,
A living span
Where the young may stand
And have the truth to ponder.
We are these that crossed before
And now's our turn to be its beams,
Its rails,
Its pillars,
The planking on the floor,
That we may bear good burdens,
Our little part
In the all of evermore.
To the left,
A place to fail.
To the right, if we prevail,
The world our founders bought
With grief and pain
For independence
And self reliant thought.
The place where yours is yours and mine is mine
To practice grace
In the grand design.
So sing the young our song well sung
In keeping with that manner
And teach ‘em lessons that will last
Of an ancient battle banner.
To better hold the present
They better know the past.
The wholesome love of liberty
Could slip their youthful grasp.
Billowed banners in the breeze, and ruffled hair,
There's something Southern in the air
That can't be caught by death.
A host of Southern souls breathed right here
And still we feel their breath.
Look!
Our battle standard's winsome cloth,
It moves!
Now our souls will prove their duty.
Insight grows and history glows
In the banners fetching beauty.
Its hope is catching,
Habits daring,
The American way will go astray
Without these stars
To guide its bearing.
So raise your flags to find your friends.
Uplift our courage when scorn begins.
Silly twits are having fears and having fits
Behind their scornful grins,
But the South
Survives its time of tears
And terrible trouble and burning rubble,
And survives those jeers and leers and glowers.
We'll stand our ground with whom we've found
And sow the seeds of virtue
‘till we grow our Southern powers,
Until corruption fades and honor stays,
And Dixie plays and freedom flowers.
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