To the Glory of the Marines

By Carlton Fitchet

In jungles dense, on coral strands

That dot the far embattled seas,

Old Glory, raised by stalwart hands,

Now flies triumphant in the breeze.

It's destination Tokyo,

It storms the ramparts of Japan;

Exacting payment from the foe

That trampled it upon Bataan.

Pearl Harbor saw it bullet-torn

Above our navy, foully wrecked

By war-mad beasts who struck in scorn

Of all that decent men respect,

They spat upon it in disdain

That darksome date Manila fell;

Our flag would never rise again,

Our heroes heard their captors yell.

Men prayed to it with dying breath.

Old glory faithful to her trust,

Began a great triumphant march

'Gainst those who ground her in the dust.

Until we see our banner sweep

The foe to doom on land and sea

There'll be no calm or peaceful sleep

For those who died to keep us free!