
Need 4 scouts to hold flag, 1 to cut, 1 to moderate. Also need flag, scissors, music and/or musicians. Suggest doing this ceremony at the end of the campfire.
Moderator:
The flag of a people symbolizes their hopes and aspirations, their struggles and sacrifices, their joys and achievements. If these be fine and noble, their flag is great; but if their aspirations, conduct, and accomplishments be ignoble, then their flag means little or nothing.
The flag of a country is what its people make it. It is nothing more, nothing less. Colonel James A. Moss
Many brave men and women have made the United States a great nation. But no individual and no country can rest on past achievements. Every new generation must enhance the nation and conduct themselves nobly.
Tonight we retire this flag. It has served us well; but it is worn, soiled, and faded. With dignity and ceremony, we destroy it by fire.
All Sing:
My country tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of thee I sing
Land where my fathers dies
Land of the pilgrims pride
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.
Moderator:
Nearly two centuries ago - on March 17, 1824 - in Salem, Massachusetts, upon the occasion of the celebration of his twenty-first birthday, William Driver was presented by his mother and a group of Salem girls with a beautiful American flag.
“I name her ‘Old Glory,’” said he, in response to the greetings of the givers, and thus it was that the name “Old Glory” made its advent into the history of our flag. William Driver’s heart and soul were in his occupation of sailing the seas, and from that day on, “Old Glory” accompanied William Driver whenever he went to sea. When in 1837, after many notable voyages, Captain Driver quit the sea and settled in Nashville, Tennessee, “Old Glory” as usual accompanied him. On historic occasions it could be seen gracefully waving from a rope extending from the Captain’s house to a tree across the street.
One day, not long before his death, the old Captain placed in the arms of his daughter a bundle, saying: “Mary Jane, this is my old ship flag, ‘Old Glory.’ I love it as a mother loves her child; take it and cherish it as I have cherished it, for it has been my steadfast friend and protector in all parts of the world. Keep it always.”
“Old Glory” was kept and guarded as a precious heirloom in the Driver family until 1922, when it was sent to the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC where today it is carefully preserved and visited every year by thousands of Americans.
Moderator:
On June 14, 1777, the Continental Congress resolved that the flag of the United States would consist of 13 alternating red and white stripes, representing the 13 original colonies. These states became unified as a new constellation that was represented by 13 stars on a blue field. Since that time we have added a star as each state has joined the union.
Red stands for hardiness and courage. White is for purity and innocence. Blue is for vigilance, perseverance, and justice.
We retire the flag by removing each stripe and burning it.
We retire the field by burning it.
All Sing:
My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.
He has loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword.
His truth is marching on.
Glory, glory hallelujah,
Glory, glory hallelujah,
Glory, glory hallelujah,
His truth is marching on.
All Say Pledge
My country tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of thee I sin
Land where my fathers dies
Land of the pilgrims pride
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.
O say, can you see by the dawn’s early light
What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight's last gleaming.
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watch’d, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.
He has loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword.
His truth is marching on.
Glory, glory hallelujah,
Glory, glory hallelujah,
Glory, glory hallelujah,
His truth is marching on.
Excerpts from: The American Patriot's Handbook, Woodmen of the World/Omaha Woodme