posted on Aug, 26 2016 @ 08:18 AM
Is it just me, or does anyone else get the feeling that theres a definate 'push' towards anarchy across the west ?
Is some faction causing disruption to foment civil unrest and perhaps war.
I certainly feel thats the case of late and I was chewing it over, reading this site and others. Nothing changes does it, always some party or other
ready to upend the cart to suit their own ends. Not being particularly gifted in the arts, I surprised myself by putting together a poem of sorts to
my son. My first real contribution to ATS so have a read and see if it rings any 'Liberty Bells' for you...
(The cadence is something like Burns " I'll gang and be a soldier"
Boxes by ClydeBuilt - 2016
Hand me down yon box my son, the one thats draped in red, for civil wars abroad this day and we may soon be dead.
The box is auld and swathed in red, for red is deaths dark colour. Its treated harsh, it should be blue, for blue is freedoms mother.
We shall not die alone my son, for other men and sons are talking just as we. For now and then these things must pass, that freemen remain free. So
hand me down my box dear son, aye closer, to my bed, shine these guns bright....take 'them' the fight for truth is never dead!
Some Bobbing John or Jane may dance tae guile ye from your ardour, but stay your hand and sheath your blade, for truth she has nae colour. Nae waving
flag, nor beating drum can call you to their lie, for dare ye dance a harlots prance, then you will surely die.
They always come...they always do...a scant few years or more, for 'higher men' who plot such things, are rotten to the core.
They cannot see, they cannot hear the souls who raised them high, they only know that when it comes, its not their time to die.
For evil men whom we have raised, have brought us to this end. They bob and weave and sell their arse, their riches to pretend. And with our hearts,
our swords at hand, our rights we must defend. And rights they are by God, my son, and by God are defended, no english marque nor royal hand to be
by favour ended.
Shine up my steel and test my guns, that our aim will be true, for I know of no better man to fight aside, my son that man is you. Our time to fight
may fall this night and our hearts must be willing, to fight that fight, defend the right and rage among the killing.
For we hail not from mountain glens, the plaid around our shoulders. No throaty chants, no gaelic rants from out among the boulders. For we are urban
warriors son, unblessed with Alba's beauty. But rest assured as Glesgas poor, we shall still fund our duty.