When I speak of Texans, I remember quite well,

A grass roots uprising that stirred up some hell.

Some men gave their blood on that day long ago,

So we could be Texas and not old Mexico.

They asked us to come here in 1824,

To plant all their fields and to rake with a hoe,

But there came a day in 1836,

That Mexico wanted us out in a fix!

The “scrape,” as they called it, brought quite a fear,

They pillaged our farms and things we held dear.

We loaded our rifles and rode out the door,

And didn’t come back till they weren’t there no more.

It would be highly unlikely, in a fight, that we’d run,

When the feds seem to think that they own everyone.

For when, ten years later, we joined America’s ride,

With an oath we established our flags “side by side.”

Not underneath as to say we’ll submit,

To any dumb law that you might see fit.

But we’re not too haughty, or say we’re too cool,

To lay down our lives for the rest of you fools.

Texans are Texans, then Americans, too,

But we were a nation before we joined you.

So when you say jump, we might just say, “who?”

“Remember the Alamo!” and Goliad, too!

Jacqueline Applewhite©

4/20/2010