Ode to the Quasquicentennial
by Mal Stylo
No more do armies clash,
Still, we have those days in word and song,
And a way to make some cash!
We'll reenact those bloody fights,
We'll fight in fields and thickets,
We'll gather banners, glorious sights,
And then sell the public tickets!
The ground once red with heroes' blood,
Where once stood valiant soldier bands,
Is now again a battleground,
Between rival concession stands!
On the spots where cannons roared,
And belched forth shell and grape,
A different gunner now is lord,
Who shoots "official" video tape!
The shooting makes them tired and sore,
And 'tis an awesome trust,
Yet "t'will show future generations the Civil War,
Long after you and I are dust!"
And when comes at last the glorious day,
To gather on the fields of old,
Where you and I see blue and gray,
Somebody else sees gold!
Yet some things now remain the same,
Some sights, some sound, some scents,
Some change is merely in a name,
For battles, read "Mega-Events!"
The honored shades, what must they think,
No matter in life once heroes or bumblers?
Do they raise on high the warrior's drink,
In blue and gray plastic tumblers?
Pray soon the "sponsors" will leave us,
And these carnivals shall cease!
We'll soon forget this silly fuss,
And fight the war in peace!
