Bellevue, NE, Sarpy
by © Richard Budig 1996
Thunder rolls on distant shores
And governments everywhere,
Not wishing to be outdone,
Race to spend their young.
Yonder they come, certain and sure,
Row upon row, a fresh new crop,
Young men all, brave and tall,
Learn to march before they fall.
Into the setting sun they troop,
Waving good-bye, good-bye to all,
Beaming a young man's certain smile,
One that say's, I'll be gone just awhile.
Off they go on the great salt sea,
Full packs upon their backs,
Shoulderd arms point to the sky,
Another crop about to die.