by Rick Young
A cop was killed one somber night,
They buried him today.
He gave his life to do a job.
A wooden box his pay.
Taps were played and the shots were fired
That signified the loss.
They echoed 'cross the lonely land.
All eyes stared at the cross.
The folded flag was passed along
To his widow's shaking hands.
She held her daughter in her arms,
And answered her demands.
"So cry, my dear, don't hold it back,
Don't lock it up inside.
We loved him so and he loved us,
He served his land with pride."
"He gave his life to do a job,
That others could not do.
He proudly wore that silver shield,
With pride we'll miss him too."
The young lass, with tear-filled eyes,
Then turned and faced her mother.
"This promise I give, I vow today,
I'll never give another."
"Some day I too will wear the blue
And stand among the best.
I'll serve my land and do my job,
Dad's badge pinned to my chest."
"But if I too should fall some day,
Fighting to hold that line,
Then take the badge from off my chest,
Give me my box of pine."
"And take that badge and keep it bright,
For there will come another,
Who'll pin it on a shirt of blue,
And swear that oath of honor."
"And while he stands with lifted hand,
His chest filled out with pride,
Beside and behind will stand the ones
Who served, who fought, who died."
Though officers die, families cry,
Others will come along,
To take the badge so worn with pride,
To try and right the wrong.
It's those who watch while others serve,
Who owe a debt not small.
These ones in blue, with silver shield,
Stand firm, stand fast, stand tall.
© 1999 Officer Rick Young
Vancouver, WA PD