Od Friends Who Made You Poem by David Welch

The minuteman with his musket,
the man who won our freedom,
an everyday guy asked to step up
and like a soldier, carry a gun.
An old friend who made you,
an old friend that you've spurned.

The woodsman with coonskin cap,
blazing countless, roaming trails,
surveying endless, rolling acres,
surviving all forms of travails.
An old friend who made you,
an old friend that you've spurned.

The cowboy with his lasso,
riding endless western lands,
protecting the herd and his skin,
while riding for the brand.
An old friend who made you,
an old friend that you've spurned.

The lumberjack in Buffalo Check,
eats flap-jacks and swings an axe,
for soft-wood and piles of paper,
he fells trees that could break his back.
An old friend who made you,
an old friend that you've spurned.

The soldier in his helmet,
standing high upon the wall,
burning bright against the night,
at any moment he can fall.
An old friend who made you,
an old friend that you've spurned.

The cop driving a lonely beat,
looking for human wolves,
expected to fight on our behalf,
and yet still be held accountable.
An old friend who made you,
an old friend that you've spurned.

The hipster and the snowflake,
proclaim everything toxic,
plush comforts hide reality,
they claim good folks are sick.
Like the old friends who made them,
like the old friends that they've spurned.

Thugs in black masks rage,
but claim they're just ‘protesting, '
targeting all who disagree,
enthusiastically bashing
the old friends who made them,
the old friends that they spurned.

But it is all quite short-sighted,
they'd do better to learn,
from the giants whose shoulders hold us,
from the giants whose respect is earned.
For some day old friends may grow weary
of being mocked, ignored, and spurned,
they may shrug their heavy shoulders,
then sit back and watch it burn.