I watched the flag pass by, 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, 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 many died at sea How many foxholes were graves? No, freedom isn't free.
	I heard the sound of Taps one night, When everything was 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 draped 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 thought about a graveyard At the bottom of the sea Of unmarked graves in Arlington. No, freedom isn't free.