I’ve often wondered whether I would wear
A red badge on my breast for all to see,
Or colored like a coward born to be
If yellow were the color I did bear.
For whether winds of war or pipes of peace
Will blow, I know the color of my choice
Will show, in this, the tenor of my voice
Forever heard, forever, though I cease.
For cries of courage; cries of cowardice
Will not be silenced for eternity
So like the fork that forced our Aeneas
To choose between the windward or the lee
Elysian Fields await the blind who see
That timid ones, the bravest prove to be

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