Re: Lakewood Hospital Tour By John Litten Sept 27
Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2018 7:11 am
Tarnation Dan!
Just when I was thinking about whether or not to put the iconic Lakewood Observer banjo out on the tree lawn for the rubbish people to pick up next week, you HAD to put that verse of Pete's out there.
How indeed, can we keep from singing? They sang in the death camps before and during WWII. People have sung under all sorts of political, religious, and economic persecutions.
Sing? Yes indeed.
Well, here's a little poem. Perhaps someone might come up with a melody to it, or not, but I think that whatever side you might have been on with this hospital fiasco, you might get a chuckle, or a sigh, or perhaps a bit of a wince at it:
(A FREE SPEECH PARODY, based on the traditional nursery rhyme "Who Killed Cock Robin")
Disclaimer: Any perceived resemblance in this post to any real-life mayors, councils, lawyers, litigators, preachers, teachers, cities, solstice steps, chat rooms, politicians, or banjo players, or whatever their actual possible comments or thoughts might truly be in this or similar situations would be purely coincidental. This poem reflects one person's opinions alone, and that person could well be wrong...
Who Killed The Hospital?
Not I! reflecteth Smiling Mayor.
I had the best of good intentions.
There were no dishonorable mentions.
What could be done? She was going, going, gone,
Long before I came along.
Who then killed the hospital?
Who saw it die?
Not we, sayeth the Council,
With our observant little eyes,
We did not see it die.
Who caught the blood?
Not we, sayeth the City,
On Solstice Steps, we now sit pretty.
We did not catch the blood, can’t you see?
We only damned an urban flood of misery.
Who'll make the shroud?
Not we, sayeth the chat rooms.
With all our words, a tomb,
We made, just by being loud,
While following our own crowds.
Who'll cover its grave?
Perhaps I? said the banjo player,
With layer upon layer,
Of lies and half-truths told,
By charlatans perhaps? But bold.
Who'll be the preachers?
Not we, sayeth the litigators,
Yet heed our words. They’re fire,
But we'll not be the preachers.
Another will be the teacher...
Who will pay the charges?
We will, we won, it’s done! sayeth the voters.
We love the tarnished visions,
Forgive unrepentant sinners,
Move along, and…vote for winners!
Who'll be the chief mourners?
Above all? The politicians...
They'll carry out the coffin,
Bear pall, engage the boffins,
Sing psalms, and wink...while coughin'.
Who'll toll the bell?
I, said Truth, I will... I'll toll the bell.
The people of the land,
Will choke on their flu-borne spittle,
As they hear the last bell toll,
For their unlamented hospital.
corvus oculum corvi non eruit
(Proposed city motto)
Back to a not-so-silent banjo...
Further Affiant Sayeth Naught…The Poet
by Gary Rice 2018 Any and all reproduction rights reserved
Just when I was thinking about whether or not to put the iconic Lakewood Observer banjo out on the tree lawn for the rubbish people to pick up next week, you HAD to put that verse of Pete's out there.
How indeed, can we keep from singing? They sang in the death camps before and during WWII. People have sung under all sorts of political, religious, and economic persecutions.
Sing? Yes indeed.
Well, here's a little poem. Perhaps someone might come up with a melody to it, or not, but I think that whatever side you might have been on with this hospital fiasco, you might get a chuckle, or a sigh, or perhaps a bit of a wince at it:
(A FREE SPEECH PARODY, based on the traditional nursery rhyme "Who Killed Cock Robin")
Disclaimer: Any perceived resemblance in this post to any real-life mayors, councils, lawyers, litigators, preachers, teachers, cities, solstice steps, chat rooms, politicians, or banjo players, or whatever their actual possible comments or thoughts might truly be in this or similar situations would be purely coincidental. This poem reflects one person's opinions alone, and that person could well be wrong...
Who Killed The Hospital?
Not I! reflecteth Smiling Mayor.
I had the best of good intentions.
There were no dishonorable mentions.
What could be done? She was going, going, gone,
Long before I came along.
Who then killed the hospital?
Who saw it die?
Not we, sayeth the Council,
With our observant little eyes,
We did not see it die.
Who caught the blood?
Not we, sayeth the City,
On Solstice Steps, we now sit pretty.
We did not catch the blood, can’t you see?
We only damned an urban flood of misery.
Who'll make the shroud?
Not we, sayeth the chat rooms.
With all our words, a tomb,
We made, just by being loud,
While following our own crowds.
Who'll cover its grave?
Perhaps I? said the banjo player,
With layer upon layer,
Of lies and half-truths told,
By charlatans perhaps? But bold.
Who'll be the preachers?
Not we, sayeth the litigators,
Yet heed our words. They’re fire,
But we'll not be the preachers.
Another will be the teacher...
Who will pay the charges?
We will, we won, it’s done! sayeth the voters.
We love the tarnished visions,
Forgive unrepentant sinners,
Move along, and…vote for winners!
Who'll be the chief mourners?
Above all? The politicians...
They'll carry out the coffin,
Bear pall, engage the boffins,
Sing psalms, and wink...while coughin'.
Who'll toll the bell?
I, said Truth, I will... I'll toll the bell.
The people of the land,
Will choke on their flu-borne spittle,
As they hear the last bell toll,
For their unlamented hospital.
corvus oculum corvi non eruit
(Proposed city motto)
Back to a not-so-silent banjo...
Further Affiant Sayeth Naught…The Poet
by Gary Rice 2018 Any and all reproduction rights reserved