#15
GI JOE IN ARLINGTON
There’s a place they call Korea.
On a foreign, distant shore,
Where our brave boys fought for freedom
In a bloody shooting war.
Amid the cannon roar and rattle
‘Neath the deadly shrapnel scream,
Fell an Indian boy in battle
He was on the freedom team.
In one of our United States,
He was refused the right
To rest there in a soldiers grave.
Because he wasn’t white.
We hope some day to have a world,
That’s free from war and greed,
Where men are judged for what they do,
Not color, race or creed.
When off in foreign countries
Our soldiers fight and fall,
To make this land of plenty
A free place for us all;
They do it for their birthright,
Their neighbors and their kin,
And they never stop to wonder
What’s the color of the skin.
Then to his grieving widow
A message was sent;
It came from Washington, D.C.
Signed from the President.
He told her if she wished,
Arrangements could be made
To bury him in Arlington,
With all expenses paid.
In a grave down in Virginia,
Where the wind blows soft and warm,
Sleeps a G.I. Joe in Arlington
In O.D. uniform.
He sleeps the sleep of heroes,
Among the honored dead,
And GOD on high won’t turn him out
Because his skin was red.
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