Francis Scott Key was an American Lawyer famous for writing the text behind The Star-Spangled Banner. But, have you ever wondered how our national anthem would have turned out if he was in some other line of work? Let’s find out.
Fruit Vendor
Oh, say can you see, by the banana’s bright gleam,
What so proudly we bit at the apple’s last dream,
Whose broad grapes and bright cherries danced through the fig,
O’er the watermelons we watched, gallantly spinning big,
And the raspberry’s red glare, blueberries bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our mango was still there.
O say does that star-spangled lemon yet rave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Medical Doctor
Oh, say can you see, by the spleen’s early gleam,
What so proudly we hailed at the kidney’s cool beam,
Whose broad shoulders and bright eyes coursed through the lung,
O’er the nipples we watched, were swelling so strong.
And the heart’s fierce flare, intestines bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our glands were still there.
O say does that star-spangled urethra still wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
High School Janitor
Oh, say can you see, by the mop’s early sweep,
What so proudly we hailed at the dustpan’s last heap.
Whose broad squeegees and bright dusters through the perilous clean,
O’er the rags we watched, were so gallantly steaming.
And the floor buffer’s red glare, the trash bags bursting with hair,
Gave proof through the night that our cleaner had flair.
O say does that star-spangled polish yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the knave.
Thoracic Surgeon
Oh, say can you see, by the sternal saw’s cleaving,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last freeing.
Whose broad chest drains and bright scalpels, through the perilous mess,
O’er the cannulas we watched, were so gallantly sucking.
And the aortic clamp’s red glare, the sutures bursting through,
Gave proof through the night that our aortic graft was still true.
O say do those star-spangled scissors yet wave,
O’er the land of the retractor and the home of the brave.
Airline Pilot
Oh, say can you see, by the altimeter’s read,
What so proudly we hailed at the throttle’s last speed.
Whose broad yokes and bright dials through the perilous flight,
O’er the charts we watched, were so gallantly guiding.
And the radar’s red glare, the manuals open with care,
Gave proof through the night that our landing gear was still there.
O say does that star-spangled black box yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Marine Biologist
Oh, say can you see, by the sonar’s bright ping,
What so proudly we hailed as the trawler’s last fling.
Whose broad buoys and bright lights through the perilous depths,
O’er the research vessels we watched, were so gallantly sampling.
And the hydrophone’s glare, the cores filling with care,
Gave proof through the night that our tagged dolphins were there.
O say does that spangled submersible yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Plastic Surgeon
Oh, say can you see, by the nose early sniff,
What so proudly we hailed at the eyelid’s last lift.
Whose broad shoulders and bright eyes, through the perilous face,
O’er the lips we watched, were so gallantly traced.
And the chest’s red flare, the abs bursting in flex,
Gave proof through the night that our skin was still vexed.
O say does that star-spangled buttock yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Starbucks Barista
Oh, say can you see, by the espresso’s first pour,
What so proudly we brewed at the steamer’s last roar.
Whose shining tampers faced the risky drip’s sway,
O’er the humming blenders we watched, syrups layering play.
And the milk jug’s fierce flare, cups spilling over with pride,
Proved through the night that our portafilters abide.
O say does that star-spangled shaker yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Rock Musician
Oh, say can you see, by the lute’s early strum,
What so proudly we played at the drumstick’s last thump.
Whose broad pedals and bright keys through the perilous sound,
O’er the mixers we watched, were so gallantly wired.
And the pick’s red glare, the strings bursting with tone,
Gave proof through the night that our music had flown.
O say does that wah-wah pedal yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Family Dentist
Oh, say can you see, by the tooth’s early brush,
What so proudly we hailed at the enamel’s last crush.
Whose coffee-stained canines through the perilous bite,
O’er the tongues we watched, were so gallantly washing.
And the crown’s red glare, the fillings bursting in clean,
Gave proof through the night that our mouths were pristine.
O say does that star-spangled retainer yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Cosmetologist
Oh, say can you see, by the blow dryer’s warm blast,
What so proudly we hailed at the fried hair’s last pass.
Whose broad scissors and bright pins through the perilous style,
O’er the combs we watched, were so gallantly snipping.
And the dryer’s red glare, the rollers wrapped in foam,
Gave proof through the night that our coif held its own.
O say does that star-spangled hair-do yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
