A small college of liberalism and fine arts
devoted courses to our nations diverse parts,
instilled in me a pride of God and his son,
led us into a new vocation we had begun
early one frosty morn and with a deep shout,
from Aaron, a burly black master sergeant,
we learned what real service was really about.
We were considered with station and class,
but in the military only team ship will pass,
while this virtue some class mates did scorn.
Now boot camp was over, wish we were not born
into a class where Aaron's are not to be found,
but at least now what happens, it must befall
and we have a mouthful of earth to remedy all.
An introduction just in case this note is found
to inscribe on my tombstone before laid in ground,
we have died on the battle field, not in a gutter
and many good words will the patriot poet utter,
but none more chilling that to expose your class
who did nothing but protect income and state,
and failed to understand thoughts on our fate.
For there lay my body on a field far from home,
but for Aaron's commitment of team mates shone
a body would have turned by decay into dust.
But you see dear reader my Marine's we did trust
to honor our commitment, nary a one not to retrieve
and friendship shows what day or night can be,
so inscribe on my tombstone, "by the land or sea." |
