Black Hills White Stones by R.G. Yoho

Near Sturgis town, there stands a place, A site revered with pride and grace. Rows of stones, they mark the scene. Those men of war are now serene.

Claimed by Sioux, by them patrolled, ’Til Custer came in search of gold. True riches there can still be found. The treasure rests beneath the ground.

Flags dance on high, above them all, For those who answered freedom’s call. Some died with friends, some died alone, All buried here, Black Hills, White Stones.

The caskets draped, red, white, and blue. Those high in rank and privates too, Rest side by side, the way they stood. Their service was a force for good.

The MOH and Silver Stars, The wounded ones with Purple Hearts, Some gave it all; some merely served. No one can pay them all they’ve earned.

Fold up our flag, three perfect sides, To represent the ones who died. The rifles blast, the bugle blown, Hear “Taps” played, Black Hills, White Stones.

Black Hills, White Stones, they stand unfazed. In these times, our towns ablaze. Safe on these hills, they seem at rest, Reminders of our nation’s best.