Bastille Day


To the ramparts we go,

Thrusting our standards forward,

Banners waving in the warm July air,

We are not thinking clearly any more.

The appeal of the ideas, the songs, and the wine

Have led us to this.

It is not really our fault.


There will be shouting and cursing, and

Amidst it all throats will be slit, and

Cousins will have bayonets stuck into their gut.

And once the ideas turn rancid, and

The girls stop singing, and the wine runs out,

We will settle down to a restoration

Of the old regime. 


--July 14, 2013