“Goin’ to the garden — a worm gonna eat!”

“No, you’re not, you impetuous youngster,

You’re going to stay and keep your seat,

Same song sing —same sweet songster.”

“Give my pablum to Scruff under the table.”

“No you’re not, you’ll eat right wing gruel,

Keep yourself true to the deep red label,

Messages you hear are a misconstrual.”

“Hold my breath ‘til I fall down and croak!”

“No you’re not, you’ll support our play,

Inhale from tradition, as we always spoke,

And continue on our ancestors’ way.”

Somewhere along the well trodden track,

About November the fourth, 'twas overdue,

When we’d had enough, about to crack,

We held our breath — ‘til U.S. turned blue!

© 2008 R. Leland Waldrip