#doggerel

I know that white supremacists have commandeered our nation,

And loud-mouthed jerks with bad intent are heard on every station.

I know that modern progress means destroying every beauty,

And more and more around the world see meanness as their duty.

I know you think I should step up and join the protestation,

But all that has to wait until the end of spring migration.

I know the garden needs some work. I know the house needs cleaning.

And leaves have filled the gutters and that post back there is leaning.

And the car still needs an oil change and it’s due for an inspection,

And the whole damn world has gone to hell since they won the election.

I know that standing up now is all good folk’s obligation,

But I can’t help it’s April and the start of spring migration.

Spring migration, spring migration! Warblers, thrushes, bunting!

Standing still for hours, then hiking miles while hunting.

Seeing nothing for a day, then things you’ve never seen,

Forgetting everybody for that flutter in the green.

Spring migration! When it comes, you have to go out then,

For if you let it pass this time, it may not come again.

So I’ll leave the garden in this state until It’s almost June,

I’ll leave that post, the gutters, and that bush I need to prune,

Forget the car, forget the house, I’ll leave the march to you,

I’m sure the bad guys won’t be gone when the next six weeks are through.

Go knock ‘em dead in DC with its nasty infestation!

And excuse me while I go enjoy another spring migration.

~~~~~~~~~

When I was a King and a Baby -- yet burdened with unskilled hands --

My works were wrought for me by giants, who harkened to my commands.

For me they drew oceans of water; for me they hewed forests of wood;

And though they were foolish and clumsy, I’m sure they did all that they could.  

But every slave is a villain, and every love betrays,

And my giants schemed to dethrone me and return to their idle days.

In the dark of the morning they seized me, without any reason or rhyme,

To carry me off to a prison where I languished for time beyond time. 

In that dismal place I grew stronger, and harder, and cunning, and bold; 

And took heart in the secrets and stories that the other prisoners told.  

For a hoary old toddler once whispered, as I lay in my gloom on the floor:

“Even this Hell will be Harrowed.  In time, you will go home once more.”

So I clutched to my hopes, and I waited; I sat at the feet of the the wise;

I sifted the lessons of power from the words of my jailers’ lies.

Then after an aeon, or twenty -- my giants appeared at the gate!

With penitent tears they embraced me, and returned me to royal estate.  

---------

When I was a King and a Baby, in the masterful noon of my reign,

I endured, with solemn acceptance, endless treasons in my domain.

In time They would always turn rebel; in time, They would cast me away;

And in time They would always return, to raise me up high.  Yet again.  Come what may.

I await now my durance with patience.  When it comes, I shed nary a tear --

But abide, and comfort my fellows, through all their despairing fear.  

And this above all do I teach them, as a King in that wretched corps:

Stoß an! To the New Year!

I wish all of you a delightful new year: Stoß an!

Let's all now be merry and full of good cheer: Stoß an!

The old year is past; raise a glass of fine wine: Stoß an!

To good health and joy, and a future that’s fine: Stoß an!

To young and to old let us drink the same toast: Stoß an!

Good luck to all those who may need it the most: Stoß an!

With a smile let’s clink glasses with those we hold dear: Stoß an!

In peace and with hope we now greet the new year: Stoß an!

Happy New Year!

[By A (for Alphonse) Poeticus Abysmus, the lousiest poet on the midway.It baffles science!]

"They seek him here, they seek him there, those Frenchies seek him everywhere! Is he in Heaven, is he in Hell? That demned, elusive, Pimpernel!"

Having spent a portion of my youth enjoying classics that included the Scarlet Pimpernel, I know the rhyme. And found it repeating in my brain with the unrelenting nature of a musical earworm - one that I had forgotten I knew. (The only other one that hit me as hard as this one did was the String song, from the Goodies.)

By the end of the morning, the beginnings of a fanfic had occurred to me. And this evening I have located that copy of the book that I knew I had somewhere.

FYI, the author was Baroness Orcsy, and the books are readily available on Project Gutenberg.