Drinking From My Saucer I've never made a fortune and it's probably too late now But I don't worry about that much I'm happy anyhow. And as I go along life's way I'm reaping better than I sow I'm drinking from my saucer 'Cause my cup has overflowed. Haven't got a lot of riches and sometimes the going's tough But I've got loving ones around me and that makes me rich enough. I thank God for his blessings and the mercies He's bestowed I'm drinking from my saucer 'cause my cup has overflowed. O, Remember times when things went wrong My faith wore somewhat thin But all at once the dark clouds broke and sun peeped through again. So Lord, help me not to gripe about the tough rows that I've hoed I'm drinking from my saucer "Cause my cup has overflowed. If God gives me strength and courage When the way grows steep and rough I'll not ask for other blessings I'm already blessed enough. And may I never be too busy to help others bear their loads Then I'll keep drinking from my saucer "Cause my cup has overflowed.
Freedom Isn't Free I watched the flag pass by one day. It fluttered in the breeze A young soldier saluted it, and then He stood at ease. I looked at him in uniform So young, so tall, so proud With 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 foxholes were soldiers' 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!!
Freedom Freedom is a breath of air, Pine-scented, or salty like the sea; Freedom is a field new-plowed... Furrows of democracy! Freedom is a forest, Trees tall and straight as men. Freedom is a printing press... The power of the pen! Freedom is a country church, A cathedral's stately spire; Freedom is a spirit That can set the soul on fire! Freedom is man's birthright, A sacred, living rampart; The pulsebeat of humanity... The throb of a nation's heart!
