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Modern Nostradamus

Our land is still young as great nations go

Twelve score, naught much more it would seem

Tho’ fragile to start but with firm righteous hearts

Built of people, their hopes and their dreams

 

Hard working souls who gave past their hurt

Giving time, talent treasure and more

Working the land, trusting in God

Being fiercely stout hearted at their core

 

They came for freedom, e’re their right

Dispossessing duke and king

Vouchsafing liberty, a just reward

With God’s grace their ears did ring

 

Some won plenty, others less

But all had chance to win

Some with wit, some by luck

Good fortune’s kith and kin

 

And those who found less riches

Be they idler, dullard or sloth

Here still claimed much better life

Than with king to cut their cloth

 

The land did thrive and masses came

It grew by leaps and bounds

It proved to be a better place

As its treasures did redound

 

All went well those earlier days

Both high and low lived good

Six score years weathered thick and thin

As we burst to nationhood

 

Then came new talk, ideas of change

Railing at ill-gotten gains

Decrying hard work as its own reward

Ridiculing the work-ethic’s claim

 

The land grew fractious, split and torn

By politics, money and creed

People balked at time-tested truth

Free stuff was their right, not just greed!

 

Workers, doers, busy-bees all

Toiling harder, pay under duress

While takers and freeloaders cry out for more

Growing huge in their burden, care less

 

Freedom, liberty, pursuits of man

Seem trivial intangible things

Comparing entitlements with long idle whiles

Such birthright and grandeur don’t sing

 

We’ll quickly arrive at a no turning back

A crossroads obscure yet extreme

Lest people wake up and fear what may come

They’ll have lost their Yankee esteem

 

Not the rich or the well-to-do, mind you

Nor the landed or gentrified class

Not political dandies or their blue-bloody pals

Nor gov’t drones so crass

 

You suburbanite dwellers, you climbers and cads

Rough handy’s and jacks-of-all-trades

You salt-of-the-earther’s, you moms and you dads

You’re the ones who should heed this tirade!

 

For you bring on yourself your worst possible fears

Your pride and independence it would seem

Will be gone in a flash, they’ll just disappear

Like your hope for the American Dream

 

Al Shane

Upland, California

Alvan I. Shane Author, The Day Liberty Wept 2270 N Euclid Ave Frequent Op-Ed Contributor Upland, Calif 91784 Political Donor to Cons Grps / Causes (909) 946-5104 Ex-Marine / California native info@shaneview.com Tax Accountant / Mar 43yrs / 1 son
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