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
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