There was a land blue and green
That soon turned gray, sanguine.
There was a fort gold and silver
That now was dusted black, pewter.
Not that purple had ever limned white
But this time it was a different fight.
Years of oppression and persecution
Had ignited the flame of revolution.
Those who dared to ask why
Said they’d walk with heads held high.
The jar had a million hues
And it finally broke free, unloose.