I walked through a county courthouse square
And on a park bench, an old man was sittin' there
I said, Your old courthouse here is, is kinda run down
He said, Have a seat, and I sat down

Is this the first time you've been to our little town?
I said, I think it is
Well, he said, Son, I don't like to brag, but
We're kinda proud of that Ragged Old Flag

You see, we got a little hole in that flag there
When, when Washington took it across the Delaware
And it got powder-burns the night Francis Scott Key
Sat watching it, writing, Oh, say can you see

And it got a bad rip at New Orleans
When Packingham and Jackson took it on the seam
And it almost fell at the Alamo
Beside the Texas flag, but she waved on through

She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville
And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill
Y'see there was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard, and Bragg
The south wind blew hard, real hard, on that Ragged Old Flag

On Flanders Field in World War I
She got a big hole from a Bertha gun
She turned blood red in World War II
And she hung limp, and low, a time or two
She was in Korea, and Vietnam
She went where she was sent by her Uncle Sam
She waved from our ships upon the briny foam
Now they've about quit wavin' her back here at home

In her own good land here, she's been abused
She's been burned, dishonored, denied, refused
And the government for which she stands
Is been scandalized throughout the land

She's getting threadbare, and she's wearing thin
But she's in good shape, for the shape she's in
Because she's been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more

So we raise her up every morning
And we take her down every night
We don't let her touch the ground
And we fold her up right
On second thought, said the old guy
I do like to brag
Because I'm mighty proud
Of that Ragged Old Flag