They raise their right hand and swear on the book,
They are all so eager, there's no second look.
Their families so proud, a little bit scared,
The servant in blue, this life will be shared.
Shared with the poor, shared with the hurt,
Shared with the helpless, with death they will flirt.

These servants of peace will be kicked and knocked down,
It seems all to common, they work in your town.
They struggle for you at night while you sleep,
These folks wearing blue that you may not meet.
They speed, they take chances, responding to calls,
It may be you mother, or your son when he falls.
It could be you father, his heart stopped that day,
It could be your wife, while you are far away.
I've seen them all quiet when babies have died,
I've seen them break down, and watched as they cried.

And after the course that is finally done,
I've watched as their city put them on the run.
The walked sadly away, not even a glance,
These men and women loved by God, that served not by chance.

Well, I have remembered those serving in blue,
These soldiers who died, working for you.
They die from all causes that you may not know,
It comes to their hearts, their pain does not show.
They die from neglect and hidden abuse,
They make some mistakes, without an excuse.
Whatever their sins that you will not forget,
God loves them much, No price will be set.

J. Atchison, Retired Officer