Past Times Past 1775
Oh, in everything that I now do
I' sore reminded much of you:
Even though you sought to share my tent
The circumstances do prevent.
And thus I'm led now to believe
That such a thing was just not meant
That I should only now survive,
To live the time where I've arrived.
The time we're in is much too late:
75 is just a date!
And even though I do relate
As if the times were left to fate
Our time and chance will not quite mate
The times gone past: I'm just too late
Reflections on the 18th Century
©July 2001 Dennis E Muzzy | Long Hunters
Long hunters pushed the Virgin floors
Away, and followed then by scores
The farmer, cook and candle-maker
Church and schemer, homestead taker.
The land was cleared of all but white
So safely they could sleep the night.
Without so much to fear, our Forest
Lost the game that went before us.
All happened in but one Gen'ration
Their offspring now no longer fashion
Hunts to fund a Finer Life.
But rather, Stay at home with wife
Till all throughout this Land of ours
Cities grew: Majestic Towers.
Now, Moderns go forth on a Trek
With Six to Nine to save their Neck
And thus portray those Woodsmen Score
Reenacting those gone on before
And now this homage we bemoan
For us that Time is just on loan.
© 2002 Dennis E Muzzy |