Hail to the wives that rear the sons
Of the brave young men who man the guns
That keep America free.
They do their work day by day,
And every night they kneel to pray
For a man who is half a world away
On guard for you and me.

No one knows as well as she
That freedom isn't really free.
The price she quickly learns
Is many heartaches, many fears
Lonesome days, months and years,
Sometimes at night with bitter tears
Awaiting his return.

Her head held high with intense pride
Though her heart is aching deep inside,
She awaits that happy day,
When he comes home a job well done.
She is counting the days one by one,
And there will be happiness, joy and fun
When he comes home to stay.

Submitted by: Randy Clapp

This poem was written by Randy's late Father-in-law, Bill Stephens.
Bill wrote this for his Daughter while Randy was in Vietnam.