The Last Refuge (Some patriotic Noyes for TLP)

The wind was a stream of fervor among the townsfolk July Four,

The fields were a broad and fertile national metaphor,

The fireworks were dazzling dahlias in a garden of black sky

And a patriot started whining-

. Whining-whining-

A patriot started whining while his wife ate a moon pie.

He'd a Northrup King hat on his forehead, a Hank, Junior beard on his chin,

A silver cross across his chest over the tattoo "Born To Sin,"

His shirt ended halfway down his belly, his rubber boots were wide and tall

And he held forth on immigration,

. Foreign immigration,

Wages lost to immigration, and how we ought to build a wall.

As the night of Independence Day continued gayly on

The patriot kept on grieving over good days that had gone;

On the grass nearby, his neighbors celebrated freedom, filled with awe,

As he deplored the NAFTA treaty,

. The cursed NAFTA treaty

He cursed the NAFTA treaty and vowed "there ought to be a law."

When the band had cased their instruments and the pyrotechnics had gone still,

The patriot picked up the empty cooler and set it by his cooling grill.

As the parking lot emptied out under a sky now filled with smoke,

The patriot could be heard at last

. His voice louder than the drums, at last;

In a voice as loud as a drum blast, the man told a stupid joke.

"How many arabs does it take to change a light?" he asked.

"None, they just break wind on termite hills, 'til the hill fills up with gas.

"Can you believe it costs me twenty bucks to drive to work each day?"

Then climbed up into his pick-up truck,

. His bumper-stickered pick-up truck

He cranked his one-ton pick-up truck and hammered it away.

And still every July Fourth, they say, when the wind is freedom's ghost,

The fireworks are dazzling dahlias, and the similes grow in rows,

And the band plays God Bless America, but for some years when there's rain,

You can hear a patriot in debt,

. A patriot owing on his tv set

You can hear a patriot rise to bless the troops at war and then complain.

HIGHWAYMAN, n. Yesterday's good Samaritan.

Oh, a programming note: The rest of this week I'll be in Indiana with honest people and questionable internet connections. Apologies in advance for late posts, unanswered comments, unvisited blogs, good moods, etc.