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by Larry Porter
Copyright 2013 Larry Porter
The frost in the air comes not from weather.
The frost in the air comes from the fool crown’s tether.
Those who would dare to bring up a scare
Will bring the disgusted together.
They march to the tune of a different songbird,
The crown didn’t listen and got the wrong words.
These souls understood there’s a much greater Good,
And that’s what the strong should prefer.
They gathered together to forge a new plan,
A country whose power was bestowed on man.
In the heat of the day and with so much to weigh,
One said, “I don’t know if we can.”
Undaunted, three souls chose to work even harder.
Together they formed a triumvirate of ardor.
The first brought the form, the second transformed
Ideas aged kept in their larder.
The third of the members interpreted well
The meanings of phrases so none could dispel
The message that wrought the authors’ true thoughts.
They now had a story to tell.
The assemblage was gathered and asked to please ponder
If they’d willingly risk their lives, wealth, and honor.
Fifty-six men agreed that they had to secede
From the crown that ruled from a’ yonder.
The menace marched westward in a wave of bright red,
And nearing its goal the patriots said,
“Come on boys, take our toys
And then we’ll cut off all your heads.”