Sticks and stones may break their bones
But bullets go right through them
A Kevlar vest protects their chest
When evil does pursue them

They took an oath to serve as both
The Shepherd and the Hound
To guard the living from misgiving
And hunt all the wolf dogs down

On their waist a pistols placed
Cops fear as humans do
The crowds upset so they forget
That cops are human too

Unfounded blame has lit this flame
With war they can’t control
Despite the hate they risk their fate
Each time they’re on patrol

With little rest they do their best
Though constantly harassed
Every day their families pray
That today is not their last

Make no mistake their bodies ache
They’re worn out now, and wary
Despite the feeling they keep dealing
And trust the armor that they carry

They hit their beats, these endless streets
Where they risk their lives to save
A frightened stranger caught in danger
Thank God police are brave

Despite the hateful and ungrateful
Ignoring crowds that don’t respect
Shots returned, the public learned
It’s us, these cops protect

They can’t unsee a dying plea
From a person that’s unknown
They stand up choked, in clothing soaked
With blood that’s not their own

At scenes they’re tense- what might commense?
The thoughts are left unsaid
Because they know, a second slow
Could leave another lawman dead

“SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!” A cop commands
His fate was sealed, he knew
These thankless deeds, the blood he bleeds
Was bled for me and you

Guns are smoking, then there’s choking
In red these wolfdogs drown
“The shooters dead!” The media said
“But an officer is down.”

The pain’s unfair- they can’t prepare
To watch their partner say goodbye
He hit his knees “Don’t leave me! Please!”
Because even heroes cry.

But still they rise to fight with eyes
That nightmares kept awake
Respects are paid while Taps is played
And the hearts of Angels break

His son is grim, a cop, like him
His little girl’s a dancer
She holds a flag while speakers lag
“Last call. Last call. No answer. “

While we grieve the Fallen leave
With Saint Michael now they roam
They and others guard their Brothers
Until the Angels bring them home

I avow that then or now
Be it bullets, stones or sticks
Should they tire in this fire
To always guard their six.

-Chase Elliott