Three colors on a scrap of canvas fluttering in the wind
Can only represent the smallest part
Of a native love so deeply buried inside
Even the most cynical heart, causing
A brief smile, a sudden cheer, as colored stars
Scatter across the sky above staring eyes
Waving three colors on a scrap of canvas.
Proud lineage of the storm-tossed refuse
So long called by a shining beacon in a bustling harbor
Now stand in high places, if only in thought
Looking down on the world below them