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FREEDOM’S FIGHT
[Welland Telegraph December 11, 1941]
Scarred by fires of jealous hate,
Drunk with mad ambitions flame,
Sprawled all o’er the world’s face
Braggart races steep in shame.
In that bubbling cauldron’s brew
Scum of evil rides on top;
While degenerary’s hordes
Bid the world of progress stop.
Note the tyrants’ lust for power,
As they grasp each conquered land,
With gigantic fists closed tight
Holding piles of human sand.
When those fingers, tired, relax,
Then the sand will trickle through;
And each nation crushed to earth
Shall its moral strength renew.
Bold as ancient Viking lords
Britain stands in brave array
With her moral fibre firm,
Tough, unshaken, day by day.
And her young gods of the skies
Forge immortal deeds of fame
For their Motherland, so dear,
And the honor of her name.
-William McClure.
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