A poem by John Goggin

When they came, they came as friends
Blessed by the king, with new learning to impart.
We all prospered, it is true; grew fat, built new houses,
Mortgaged our futures, became blind.

Wondrous, wasn’t it?

When the wind shifted and a storm blew up,
In just a big city moment we were not so smart.
They pillaged to their black hearts’ content;
Took what they wanted and pissed on what was left.

They trampled the grain, slaughtered the cattle,
Set fire to the courthouse, robbed and razed the bank,`
Raped the young women, crazed the young men
And took special care to make the old destitute.

Poisoned the well, too.

We will pursue them, of course. The new king’s men
rode through today, and they were civil, caring, even, but
they were still the king’s men. There will be revenge.
Trials, fines, maybe hangings. Bitter redress.

But where, when we needed them, were the old king’s men?
Where were they when these parasites rode in?
Where was the inviolate law we learned by heart
In the old school, now burned to the ground?

It smolders still, but will not be rebuilt.

We know that recriminations cannot help us now.
We know it was our foolishness that brought us here.
As for inviolate law? Those that can stop weeping
Now laugh at such ideals, such innocence.

We should have known better, been more resolute.
Could have listened to our old stories and forsworn the golden goose.
Should have, would have, could have; too late all that.
Let us raise our heads and sing the ancient hymn.

“Dies iræ! dies illa
Solvet sæclum in favilla
Teste David cum Sibylla!”

Today my neighbor Jones found two cows, alive
In the woods, while he was foraging for acorns.
He says they belong to the village at large,
And if we can find a bull, there may be hope.