by Colin Meloy of The Decemberists

Sixteen military wives
Thirty-two softly focused, brightly-colored eyes
Staring at the natural tan
Of thirty-two gently clenching, wrinkled little hands

Seventeen company men
Out of which only twelve will make it back again
Sergeant sends a letter to five military wives
His tears drip down from ten little eyes

Cheer them on to their rivals
Cause America can
And America can’t say no
And America does if
America says it’s so
It’s so
And the anchorperson on t.v.
Goes la-di-da-di-da

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields.”

— Irish Blessing

by William Blake

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.