Like a river we have
sauntered through crevice stone
Through old eras now
the wise eye gone
Gone in the gust of
yesterday’s throne
Departed in the leave
of an old empire’s chill
Spent but we forget
not your repressive spill
Like the river’s bank,
we have borne scars
Scars from memories of
a firm mind’s sedition upon our serene hill
With its vast spread
sitting on our yielding brim
I remember you young
men; black boots pressing against my steady bark
Your black pants red
shirt with a black strip
That ran down your
long sleeve’s end
Where many have felt
your controlled rage
Controlled by the wiry
man sitting on the lower stool
Where he bowed us all
into timid fools
Where was the skipper
when the train misplaced its tracks?
Perhaps he went off
looking for his luminous twig
Why then are your
sentiments, directed at him with a mad face
Let him have his
tantrums let him spray his rage
We shall have him
quite at the ballot box
He is a sensible man
after all just let him wander his dream
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