PERRY’S POEMS

After eighty years on this beautiful earth,
THIS IS HOW IT LOOKS TO ME

 

As the age of nations comes and goes
We’re just a brat in swaddling clothes.
Our family tree is still a sprout,
But how that baby branches out.

 

We’re a hybrid breed of many strains
Of various bloods flowing through our veins
Our parents came form here and there.
Any farther back only god knows where.

 

We have been likened to a bunch of weeds
That spring from either root or seeds.
The kind you try to chop and hack.
They will make a crop behind your back.

 

It seems but yesterday to me
Our kinfolks sailed across the sea.
With their flaunting banners they proudly swore
They would feel the tyrant’s heel no more.

 

They had their troubles from the start.
Tough guys out to take them apart.
We ran them all a merry chase
And sent them home with our fist in their face.

 

It seems the fools could never learn
That to play with fire they must get burned.
They’re like the bear that hugged the buzz saw
And got himself split from his crotch to his craw.

 

These Yankee lads are funny guys.
They know that fighting is hard on the eyes.
A dang good way to lose your hide
Is to try to take them for a ride.

 

Right now a bunch of cockeyed cranks
Have got the idea they can clean up the Yanks.
They sure rubbed our nose in lots of crap.
Still were not mad enough to scrap.

 

They downed our airplanes, stole our boats,
Pushed a thousand insults down our throats.
Still a bunch of goons with foreign schooling
Yacked, “We mustn’t get sore, they’re only fooling.”

 

It’s time old Uncle Sam got tough,
Rolls up his sleeves, says, “That’s enough.”
No blasted pirate from across the sea
Can make a monkey out of me.

 

So that’s the spot we’re in right now.
We can either bear down or take a bow.
And lose everything that through the years
Our kinfolk won with blood and tears.

 

It’s a mammoth job we know, but still
That was no pink tea at Bunker Hill.
At Valley Forge and all the rest
Did those boys fail to give their best?

 

Hell no, they rammed their powder down,
Primed their old muskets and went to town
When their lead was all, did they cut and run
Sure, into their foes with the buts of their guns.

 

How we love to tell our heroes’ deeds
Who helped forge the links in our Yankee creed.
Say, I wonder if after we are all turned to dust,
Will the Yanks still be proud to tell about us?

The Waynedale News Staff

The Waynedale News Staff

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