Visit Lexington and Concord
Or Bunker Hill's Monument so large.
Stand among the hillside grass,
where Pickett led his charge.
Those famous fields of battle
fought in wars long ago,
are remembered in polished marble,
with soldiers names etched below.
But there is another field of valor,
where battles were won and lost;
yet no granit marker points to where,
these soldiers paid the cost.
You'll find no trench or bunker,
no fort upon the hill.
Only a farmer to fallow the soil;
where youthful blood was spilled.
Lift your gaze onto the skies,
to find this battle plain;
where daring young men unsheathed their sabers,
and clashed with infernal flame.
The wind now whistles through the air,
where frantic words were spoke;
"Splash one Zeke!","Clear my tail!",
"Number four, she's starting to smoke".
"How many chutes?", "I count five".
"Feather number three prop".
"This flak is so thick, I could step from the
wing,
and walk to Berlin non-stop!"
No, these voices like the contrails,
have long been swept away;
leaving no trace among the clouds,
to recall the bravery displayed.
If Gettysburg's fields were consecrated,
by the blood of those died there.
Then I taste the perfume of freedom,
with each breath of hallowed air.
But there is a monument erected,
for those who flew, fought and died.
I believe more splendid than the rest,
it is the Monument of the Skies.