freedom is not free

I watched the flag pass by one day It fluttered in the breeze A young marine saluted it and then he stood at ease I looked at him in uniform So young so tall so proud With hair cut square and eyes alert He'd stand out in any crowd I thought how many men like him Had fallen through the years? How many died on foreign soil? How many mothers tears? How many pilots planes shot down? How manmy died at sea? How many foxholes were soldiers graves? No, freedom is not free. I heard the sound of taps one night, When everything still. I listened to the bugler play, And felt a sudden chill. I wondered just how many times that taps had meant "amen" when a flag had a coffin, Of a brother or a friend. I thought of all the children, Of the mothers and the wives Of fathers sons and husbands, With interrupted lives. I thiught about a graveyard At the bottom of the sea, Of unmarked graves in Arlington, No freedom is not free. Grandpa Bill