I hear a sound and turn to see
A new direction on that rusty weathervane
Suddenly the dead brown leaves are stirred
To scratch their circle dances down the lane
And now the sturdy oaks start clappinÃ¢â‚¬â„¢
With the last few stubborn leaves that wonÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t let go
I can hear Old Glory snappinÃ¢â‚¬â„¢
And her tattered rope now clanginÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ against the pole
And my breath is snatched away
And a tear comes to my eye
Feels like somethinÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s on the way
So I look up to the...
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