Benedict Arnold
took a bride
who batted her eyes,
and said, "which side?"
"the Brits?", he slowly uttered -
knowing which side his bread was buttered.
"One if by land, two if by sea".
That's what Paul Revere said to me.
But my memory's just no good,
and sadly, I misunderstood.
Anyway, Paul was just a spy,
and I like eating shepherd's pie.
I am the University of Yale
Opens its door.
I am the beginning of the
Revolutionary War.
I am one of the 13
Colonies.
I am the Sons of Liberty
Ideologies.
I am the Pilgrams at Plymouth
Rock.
I am the Boston Tea Party thrown
Off the dock.
I am the day the Navy was
Created.
I am Paul Revere the midnight
Ride awaited.
I am Ben Franklin and
Nathan Hale.
I am the Declaration of
Independence in detail.
I am the Bill of Rights and
Betsy Ross.
I am George Washington he
Is the boss.
I am the making of the U.S.
Marines.
I am a patriot breaking away
From the Queen.
I am the Bunker Hill
Battle.
I am Benedict Arnold and
His psychobabble.
I am Samuel Adams and
Thomas Payne.
I am the Boston massacre
Independence gained.
I am the colonial era and
The Sugar Act.
I am the Pilgrams and natives
Made a pact.
TURBO1904
What am I doing wrong? I do not know
But love flies too, as the raven must crow
His song sings of happiness and sorrow
Happy, sad days, another tomorrow
When we loved each other, shy to admit
Crushes were fatal; I, the hypocrite
Gave out advice to someone who crushed on
The same one I did, I was woebegone
Playing two faces, in opera style
Dealing out cards, Benedict Arnold smile
Turncoat at ready, the plans behind back
But when I turned, I nearly had heart attack
I realized pitfall of deception
Would friends still care? Am I the exception?
So my coat is still friend-side out, colors
Scarlet and black, painted watercolors
What am I doing wrong? I do not know
But love flies too, as the raven must crow
His song sings of happiness and sorrow
Happy, sad days, another tomorrow
She was warm to the touch
Cold to the bone
A sheepskin clutch
With a heart of stone
Her gentle webbed hands pulling, she drowns him
And he’s seeking solace as she comes up for air
A Benedict Arnold over easy, she confounds him
He comes with a start and she with a stare
Deciphering what truth, if any human remains
She’ll speak dolphin, he’ll just wail
White squid ink on her nightie stains
Her love scribbled on a platypus bill of sale
Eggs Benedict Arnold?
Crown Roast from a King?
Shepperd's Pie?
For this he's died?
Pie Alamo?
Does Davey Crockett know?
Stewed tomatoes?
Just who got them drunk?
Limberger cheese?
Our aviator hero stunk?
We seem to find ourselves,
Eating some weird stuff,
Don't you think it's time....
To say we've had enough?
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