This needs work, I know, but it's the start of something I've been thinking about for a while.
See then, Father Knickerbocker
That gallant, stern old Dutchman of New Amsterdam
Now, of course, called New York.
It was he who strode the broadway
In the days before the theaters and lights
When its name derived from it's width
Fully that of two carriages and a walkway
When Wall Street still ran along a wall
Time rolls on, and the old man passed
But still he treads the sidewalks
That were once boardwalks
He roused himself for the civil war
And for the great wars thereafter, having heard
The sound of guns and the cries of men
As fire swept a ship or the thin blue line crumbled
"TO ARMS, YOU FAITHLESS MEN", he cried,
And men marched from New York (and other places)
Until the specter of war had been, once again
Nailed back into its casket.
But where has he been, I wonder
In these latter days, as we are now the aggressor
Is he dead, at long last, or
Is he merely watching Lost and
Trying to make sense of it all
Does he still wear that black frock coat
Tricorn, and walking stick or
Is he wearing blue jeans and a stained tee shirt
Sporting a NASCAR logo or a Gadsden flag
Does he still have that fine white horse,
Or perhaps an SUV with a McCain/Palin bumper sticker
Or maybe SUPPORT THE TROOPS obscured behind
His mobility scooter carrying frame
Perhaps, indeed, he is a greeter at WalMart now,
And hasn't the energy for these things
As he cleans up the mess left by his morbidly obese countrymen
And their unwatched children
Very thought-provoking. I like it :mittens:
Well started, Roger. Wow.
Father Knickerbocker is one of the great forgotten myths of America. The last person I've seen refer to him as Stephen Leacock - A Canadian - in a story published in 1916.
Powerful stuff, Rog.
I like it. The last part is heartbreaking, in the idea that we've really stooped that low... :cry:
:mittens:
Nice begining!!! I'm looking forward to more.