Flag of Norway

I walked through a little Nordic town,

By a fjord where the waves came rolling down.

An old man sat there by the square,

With sea air blowing through his silver hair.

I said, “Your flagpole leans a bit, I see,

And that flag looks worn to me.”

He said, “Sit down, stranger, rest a while,

Is this your first stop in our country mile?”

I said, “Yes, first time I’ve been this way.”

He smiled and said, “Then let me say—

We’re pretty proud, though she’s faded and frayed,

That weathered old flag that the sea winds have swayed.”

“She’s flown through storms and northern frost,

When freedom’s flame was nearly lost.

Back when the union days were done,

We raised her high beneath the sun.

And when war came across the seas,

She stood for hope among the trees.”

“She fluttered silent through the fear,

When the dark years of the war were here.

She saw the soldiers cross the snow,

She watched resistance rise below.

From Narvik down to Oslofjord,

She stood her ground beneath her Lord.”

“She waved when peace bells rang again,

And mothers called their boys home then.

She’s seen the shifts of oil and steel,

The dreams we work, the hearts we heal.

She’s weathered storms, she’s taken flame,

Yet in her red and blue remains our name.”

“And though she’s worn and torn a bit,

Every fiber still has grit.

We raise her high each morning clear,

And fold her right when dusk is near.

No, we don’t let her drag or sag—

We’re mighty proud of that weathered old flag.”