I’d like to be the sort of man it cannot live without;

I’d like to be the type of man That really is American:

The head-erect and shoulders-square,

Clean-minded fellow, just and fair,

That all men picture when they see

The glorious banner of the free.

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I’d like to be the sort of man the flag now typifies,

The kind of man we really want the flag to symbolize;

The loyal brother to a trust,

The big, unselfish soul and just,

The friend of every man oppressed,

The strong support of all that’s best,

The sturdy chap the banner’s meant,

Where’er it flies, to represent.

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I’d like to be the sort of man the flag’s supposed to mean,

The man that all in fancy see wherever it is seen,

The chap that’s ready for a fight

Whenever there’s a wrong to right,

The friend in every time of need,

The doer of the daring deed,

The clean and generous handed man

That is a real American.