Wheat Field

Wheat Field, Wheat, Field, Evening Sun, Clouds, Cereals

Pixabay

Wheat field – stands of golden grain

Bread basket –  our lives to sustain

A staff of life – giving us our fill

And yet Wheat field can be a bitter pill

 

The Wheat field – and the harvesting of grain

But also a harvest of inhuman pain

At Gettysburg  – Sickles’ – ironic his name

As by his order – a Wheatfield –

Was filled with the slain

 

Wheat field golden – production of bread

Name associated with life, and the dead

 

Padre

 

dVerse – Stream of Consciousness Writing

Half Truths and Prevarication

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Dachau Gate^

 

The way to control your people

Is to lie and then lie again

Make the lies so huge and colossal

That there’s no doubt that they could be pretend*

 

And then when you think you’ve got them

Half truths and prevarications extend

Be it a Dachau or Oswiecim

On people’s hopes and fears depend**

 

If you want to convince your people

Of your need to go to war

Tell them that mass destruction awaits them

In 45 minutes  – not a moment more

 

Remind the public often

They live in a democracy

Where everyone’s free and equal –

Just maybe – not as much as thee

 

Padre

 

*The Big Lie

**Doublespeak

^”Work Makes You Free” A Doublespeak

 

Going Dutch

CCC#90

No  –  it’s not Holland –

Not Amsterdam with canals grand

Nor Harlaam with straight cut waterway

Where on these sails do nobly stand

But in Norfolk far away  –

Where it was a Dutchman – thus –

After much effort and strain

That finally got through to us

How our land to drain

 

Padre

 

 

Revolution

Revolution, Protest, Insurrection, Marching, Parade

Pixabay

Americans have Independence Day

For the French it is Bastille

Revolutions and the change they bring

Can turn the world on its head or heel

 

In England,  Revolution – was Glorious

Not so much on the Celtic Fringe

Glencoe, and the Boyne did show

How on life – changes impinge

 

Even in France with all the talk

Of things like “Fraternity”

Heads did roll beneath guillotines

In a terror-filled tyranny

 

And what of Revolution Industrial?

Smokey factories and clearance of lands

Grown men’s employment lost

In favour of cheap children with little hands

 

Revolutions are tricky things

Oft times mere actions of the mobs

The ideals that inspired them

Are forgotten and end in sobs

 

Padre

 

dVerse – Poetics-Revolution

 

Filled With Chicken Pie

 

 

Well it’s time for Jim Adam’s Song Lyric Sunday again, and I know I offer up some pretty obscure historical pieces and folk songs from time to time.  So why should today be any different?

Old Joe Clark is an American folk song.  The lyrics are said to refer to Joseph Clark, a Kentucky mountaineer who was born in 1839 and murdered in 1885 (Wiki).  Wikipedia notes that there are about 90 stanzas in various versions of the song.  The song amassed its large number of verses as it was used as a type of a party song where each member would add a verse to build on what the previous singer had said before.

There have been noted releases of the song by Woody Guthrie and the Kingston Trio, as well as the attached Rosinators’ version.

Old Joe Clark’s a fine old man
Tell you the reason why
He keeps good likker ’round his house
Good old Rock and Rye

Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark
Fare ye well, I say
Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark
I’m a going away

Old Joe Clark, the preacher’s son
Preached all over the pain
The only text he ever knew
Was High, low, Jack and the game

Old Joe Clark had a mule
His name was Morgan Brown
And every tooth in that mule’s head
Was sixteen inches around

Old Joe Clark had a yellow cat
She would neither sing or pray
She stuck her head in the buttermilk jar
And washed her sins away

Old Joe Clark had a house
Fifteen stories high
And every story in that house
Was filled with chicken pie

I went down to Old Joe’s house
He invited me to supper
I stumped my toe on the table leg
And stuck my nose in the butter

Now I wouldn’t marry a widder
Tell you the reason why
She’d have so many children
They’d make those biscuits fly

Sixteen horses in my team
The leaders they are blind
And every time the sun goes down
There’s a pretty girl on my mind

Eighteen miles of mountain road
And fifteen miles of sand
If ever travel this road again
I’ll be a married man

 

Padre

 

Deepest Cut of All

What Was It Like to Be an Executioner in the Middle Ages? | Live ...

Image: Shutterstock

It was perjury plain and simple, but no one was going to seriously question the crown’s witness.  The entire affair, and that term is chosen advisedly,  was orchestrated by the king.  The queen had grown to be a liability, and there were fresher flowers to be picked at court.  So the queen’s own bodyguard gave testimony, and as the lies and half truths were uttered – his words cut deeper than a knife.  Deeper than a knife indeed, for soon the young queen would have a date with the Headsman.

 

Padre

 

Metaphor this week is: – His words cut deeper than a knife.

Dispute

English, Civil, War, Reenactment, Prince

Pixabay

“You Roundhead lout,” said the Cavalier

“How do you dare speak thus – to a Peer?”

“In Adam’s time all were the same,”

Replied the Roundhead, “To your shame.”

“But now you claim to be a lord,

A title only God – is thus deserv-ed.”

“You lowly Brewer, watch your tongue,

Or from the Tower you shall be hung.”

Thus they deputed, the Cavalier and brewer.

 

Padre

 

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #165 – Cavalier Word count: 64

 

 

Such Great Names As These

With yesterday being American Independence Day, it seemed topical to use a Revolutionary War reference to respond to Jim Adams song lyric challenge to use Best/Better/Good/Great as our lyrical prompts.  The first clip below (tune only) is actually depicting the Seven Years War, but it gives a general period feel.

Most everyone in the English speaking world has probably at some time or another heard the tune The British Grenadier.  It is a marching tune with its origins in the 17th Century, and was (is) the “theme tune” of the Grenadiers or grenade throwers of the British Army.  While this is no longer an “elite” skill, the traditional Grenadier units are proud of their heritage.

The lyrics of the song probably date back to the War of Spanish Succession (1702–1713) [known as Queen Anne’s War in America]. The song makes reference to the special equipment and uniforms of these troops that distinguished them as grenadiers.

Tune Only:

 

 

Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules

Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.

But of all the world’s brave heroes, there’s none that can compare.

With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers.

Those heroes of antiquity ne’er saw a cannon ball,

Or knew the force of powder to slay their foes withal.

But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears,

With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.

Whene’er we are commanded to storm the palisades,

Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand grenades.

We throw them from the glacis, about the enemies’ ears.

With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.

And when the siege is over, we to the town repair.

The townsmen cry, “Hurrah, boys, here comes a Grenadier!

Here come the Grenadiers, my boys, who know no doubts or fears!

Then sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.

Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health of those

Who carry caps and pouches, and wear the loupèd clothes.

May they and their commanders live happy all their years.

With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.”

 

With Lyrics:

 

Padre

On July 4th

July Fourth – symbolic Declaration Day

In ’76  – for o’er a year – war they did wage

For at least seven more – it would yet rage

Until in Paris – finally independence was agreed

But on this day – hearts still do stir

Freedom’s claim and promise to assure

And let it so be – for all in Liberty’s Land

A bright reality on which to stand

 

Padre

 

 

 

 

Who Owns History? An Open Question

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Dachau Gate: Copyright Padre’s Ramblings

I have spent over a decade conducting research on Holocaust memorials and commemorative sites.  I have seen the use and the abuse of public art, and public memorial.  I have seen homeless people camped on Ghent’s memorial, and people picnicking on monuments in London and Amsterdam.  I have also seen people brought  to tears at Auschwitz and at Yad Vashem.  Some memorials are for “good” lives lost, like the Korczak Memorial in Warsaw, but I have also seen the Meine Ehre heißt Treue mural perfectly preserved at Breendonk in Belgium.

I think the idea of history belonging to the victor might be overstated.  History belongs to everyone, but the interpretation of it is often sectarian, and even personal.  So to be clear, in light of contemporary events, I am not suggesting that there are not historic landmarks, and statues that shouldn’t be removed, but I do think they need to thoughtfully scrutinized.  Was the vandalism of the Robert Gould Shaw monument justified (whoever the perpetrator is), or the attacks on images of U. S. Grant?

Who owns history?  According to my Philosophy of History professor, so long ago, the present generation does, as they inherit and interpret in light of their own times.  If he was right, let us in this age do so thoughtfully, and deliberately, and not reduce our actions to mere emotions, no matter how justified.   If history is the possession of the victorious, then we need to be prepared for the rise of new victors, and that will bring change.  Who owns history?  Your guess is as good as mine.

Padre

A video for consideration