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By Steven Bates 25 November 2023

In every private’s knapsack

There’s a Marshall’s rank baton

On the sleeve of every Sad Sack

Could be a Sergeant’s rank chevron

For every lowest of the low

Be it Sailor or Marine

The sky’s the limit how high he’ll go

If he keeps his record clean

Though the thought of rank is burdensome

If one should persevere

The obstacles will be overcome

And epaulets of rank he’ll wear

The potential is in every troop

To take the mantle of command

To take the helm of ship or sloop

Or the swagger stick in hand

To lead the forces into war

Or guide them while in peace

The have the power to be more

And adorn the uniform crease

With a chevron made of stripes and stars

Plus a wreath if it’s achieved

Perhaps a General’s rank or Admiral’s bars

Can even be conceived

You have this power within you

To be anything you dream

Just don’t settle or make-do

And earn that chevron on your seam!

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