A Ballad for U.S. Marines
Peter S. Beck, USMC Retired
Have you ever thought, why we’ve battled and fought, for 230 years?
Why we never look back and always attack, without showing any fear.
Why our feeling runs deep and our honor we keep and never betray a trust.
Then you know what it means, to be labeled Marine, till our ashes turn to dust.
It started out, with a toast and a shout, in a tavern near some ships.
The bartender there, said some greens you could wear and take exciting trips.
It didn’t take long, 2 battalions and a song and the troops were on their way,
To New Providence, where some island defense, was about to be ended that day.
That started the tale, that would soon regale, everyone back home in the states.
How a band of Marines, took a fort at the scene and unlocked the old iron gates.
Raised our flag on the roof, to give ironclad proof, that Marines are a breed set apart.
Then they left just as fast, when the crisis had past, it was here that the legend did start.
And so it went on, from each dusk to each dawn, as the stories continued to grow.
If you wanted a fight and it had to be right, the Marines were the outfit to know.
They didn’t retreat and they never got beat, from one battleground to the next
And along that rough way, they performed every day; after all, they’d written the text.
It wasn’t for all and you had to stand tall, if you wanted to join our small band.
But the day that you heard, that one single word, “Marine” was your singular brand.
You said it out loud and you carried it proud, never asking for quarter or giving it,
You instinctively knew, it was all up to you, it was your life and you were living it.
And so it has been, since that first island win, on beachheads all over the world.
From old Pirate ships to terrorist tricks, our banners are always unfurled.
We give it our best; we stand up to the test, for courage can’t be bought off a shelf.
To experience the thrill, of taking the ville, you’ve got to do it yourself.
And thus it will be, from the desert to the sea, wherever Marines tend to gather.
We are all quite the same, we’ve all played the game and our ages don’t really matter.
We’re bound by our care, for the next one’s who wear, the hallowed anchor and globe.
And we’ll toast our great Corps, with a loud, husky roar, till St. Peter gives us a robe.
So now you know why, on land, sea or sky, we’ve fought for all of those years.
Why we never turn back and always attack and never show any fear.
Why the feeling runs deep and our honor we keep and never betray a trust.
Why we say what we mean, we are US Marines, till our ashes turn to dust.