Warrior, He

Happy is the warrior he When he journeys in the world of men To provide for is family And no one else, but them. Happy He is those tired nights. Happy is a warrior wife. Happy is a warrior man When he has shelter to rest his head And when he uses his own two hands To bring the food, so his family is fed. So proudly he stand so strait and tall. As he Fiercely battles vowing not to fall. A warrior man is that special breed When he enters the world of man As he asks for nothing which is free And takes what only he can. Though not by lying, stealing or request. But by hard work, bleeding and sweat. Happy is the warrior he When he greets each and every day When from his home he does leave To earn himself respect and pay. Happy he is when he earns respect. Happy he is when he tires from sweat. And when it is a warriors time to leave And he is buried all alone He shall then enter heaven proud and free Happy and peaceful, will be his soul. For he knows on earth he done his best. And now he deserves his final rest. Happy is the Lord he When he calls away a warrior man For he shall then plant another seed To bring forth two more working hands. And he will sweat, and stand as a tree. And how I wish I was the warrior he. Randy L. McClave