Peasants All the Way

Who doesn't dream of dashing knights, nobility and power? Fortune, fame, and glory are the ornaments of the past. What family would not trade the humble cottage for the tower? To shed the wretched sackcloth and sleep in silk at last ... But hear me now, you spineless scum, my fathers were all peasants! German and Czech farmers without a hint of kingly clout. Generations passed; they toiled in the presence, of dark, and grime, and poverty, and cold, and fear, and doubt. And like the age-old Ithacans, they managed to survive, How are you not jealous of their simple, quiet strength? While kings and queens were stationed so as to greatly thrive, My fathers and my mothers had to travel o'er great length, To continue my ragged family tree down to when I was born. I kiss with pride the gnarled roots, to which my fate is sworn. Written for Ancestral Roots contest, sponsored by John Hamilton