Happy Fourth of July


A Dream of Liberty

by S. McCarthy

One night as the wind whispered eerie tales
And the stars danced to and fro
I dreamt of the land where my forefathers trod
In those times of long ago
In Boston Harbour I saw brave men
And I watched with youthful pride
When they scattered the tea in a tax-laden sea
To a dark and an angry tide

I wondered then as I watched these men
Who flouted King George’s might
Would redcoat hordes with their glittering swords
Wreck vengeance in the night
Then a voice rang out in the starry air
Stand fast young man be brave
Far better to die ‘neath an open sky
Than live like a cowering slave

That early dawn of that April morn
I stood on a mountain tall
And felt the shock of the musket shot
That started first freedoms call
My spirits soared as its thunder roared
I prayed to the blazing sky
To bless the hand of the gallant band
Who carried our banner high

In that shifting scene of my wandering dream
I rode fast to Bennington town
General Stark and his Green Mountain Boys
Were camped on the dewy ground
I gazed for a while and I saw his sad smile
Then he softly said to me
Their young blood will stain this Vermont plain
Before our land is free

I remember that smile as I rode each mile
In my heart a dreadful chill
The blood and the sweat and the smell of death
Rising high over Bunker Hill
The men and the boys with their sightless eyes
Who lay dead before their time
When they broke the chain of King George’s reign
In a place they call Brandywine

Then clear upon a cold night air
I heard a suffering cry
A ragged band of hungry men
Were slowly shuffling by
Across the valley grim and bare
I heard the bugle blow
The bloody beat of their torn feet
Staining the virgin snow

In the shivering scene of my nightmare dream
A tall man spoke to me
He looked grey and old in the crippling cold
But his eyes were bright and clear
He said “Listen well, then you must tell
Of these deeds these men have done
And future days will sing their praise
From dawn ’til the setting sun”

Tell them of Saratoga
Where the patriots fought and died
Of Valley Forge of Paul Revere
Who made that midnight ride
Of Cowpens and Kings Mountain
Don’t let them soon forget
Or Patrick Henry’s immortal words
‘’Give me liberty or death'’

Remember Swamp Fox Marion
Who led that wily band
Of Allen, Greene and Sumter
Who made a noble stand
Remember too the mothers true
Who cried their tears alone
Their names will be told with the brave and the bold
Where e’er our flag is flown

He left me then but I saw him again
Standing tall near Yorktown Bay
I saw Cornwallis surrender his sword
On that bleak October day
Then the tall man turned and he said to me
Young man our fight has just begun
Like a flashing scene I awoke from my dream
And I cried in my silent room

On my way to school I felt like a fool
As my childish tears did flow
The things I had seen were all in a dream
You see they’d happened long ago
Then I cast my eye to a building high
Where the flag was floating free
And I smiled to the sun for the men who had won
A nation for you and me

 

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  • 7/4/2009 9:47 PM FloridaDave wrote:
    OH where have you been my blue-eyed son?
    Where have you been my darlin young one?II've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
    I've walked and crawled on six crooked highways
    I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
    I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
    I've been tenthousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
    And it's a hard it's a hard it's hard it's a hard it's a hard rain gonna fall
    What did you see my blue-eyed son?
    What did you see my darlin young one?
    I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
    I saw ahighway of diamonds with nobody on it
    I saw a black branch with blood that kept dripping
    I saw a room full of men with their hammers bleeding
    I saw a white ladder all covered with water
    I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
    I saw guns and sharps swords in the hands of young children
    It's a hard It's a hard
    it's a hard it's a hard It's a hard rain gonna fall
    What did you hear my blue-eyed son?
    What did you hear my darlin young one?
    I heard the sound of a thunder that roared out a warning
    I heard the sound of a wave that could drown the whole world
    Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were blazing
    Heard ten thousand whisperin and nobody listenin
    Heard one person starve I heard many people laughing
    Heard the song of a poet that died in the gutter
    Heard the sound of a clown who cried in a back alley
    And it's a hard it's hard it's a hard it's a hard it's a hard it's a hard it's a hard rain gonna fall
    Oh what'll you do now my blue eyed son?
    What'll you do now my darlin young one?
    I'm goin out back 'fore the rain starts fallin
    I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
    Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
    Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
    Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
    Where the executioner's face is always well hidden
    Where hunger is ugly where souls are forgotten
    Where black is the color and none is the number
    And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
    Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin
    But I know my song well before I start singin
    And it's a hard it's a hard it's a hard it's a hard it's a hard It's a hard rain gonna fall It's a hard rain gonna fall


    words and music Bob Dylan 1963
    Reply to this
    1. 7/4/2009 10:15 PM FloridaDave wrote:
      Ooops! I forgot a verse. Well,that's an old guy drunk late on July 4th err 5th now. I made my point,I hope. God Bless America and our troops. Peace.
      Reply to this
      1. 7/6/2009 7:02 PM Matt wrote:
        I was always amazed at Bob Dylan live performances, complicated verses and he never had any trouble. I guess he really did know his song well before he started singing.
        Reply to this
  • 7/5/2009 5:17 AM angela wrote:
    Very meaningful. Also watched Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Great film
    Reply to this
  • 7/6/2009 7:35 PM FloridaDave wrote:
    Bob Dylan,to me, remains an icon of another America. A different America. An America of Walter Cronkite and Huntley and Brinkley. Of The Smothers Brothers. An America that wasn't afraid to speak to power and risk the consequenses. An America so different from Today that I don't recognise my country any more. The United States today is a bunch of dumb as a rock hillbillys,dumb as a stone city dwellers,and proud of it. I am sick of my country. I am ashamed of my country. And you know what? I don't blame any country that arms itself to the hilt-with whatever weapons they choose. I'd be scared of the USA right now,and for good reason. When Sarah Palin gets thisclose to the Oval Office.I'd get all the weapons I could buy.
    Reply to this
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