Hapsburg bailiff Gessler’s hollow kow-tow;
was a farce William Tell would disavow.
A hat on a pole! I'll never bow.
Such disregard tagged him, non-compliant
in a poem told by William Bryant -
William Tell was the one most defiant.
His snub of the snob gave reason to dread
Tell must shoot an apple from his son’s head.
"Now off to prison!" Boss Gessler then said.
Mountain man in prison swallowed his doubt
dreaming of freedom's well-followed route.
Swiss subjection he would soon hollow out.
January 15, 2021
inspired by William Cullen Bryant's poem, William Tell,
Legendary hero of Swiss independence.
Categories:
gessler, 11th grade, freedom, hero,
Form: Rhyme
Once there was a Sultan,
Known for his able body of vazirs.
Any problem, the vazirs were ready with solutions.
Now, there was the problem of malnutrition:
The whole sultanate seemed to suffer.
A vazir suggested doubling the quantity of pulav.
Citizens grew potbellied
And the Sultan was happy!
Yet malnutrition persisted.
The Sultan and the vazirs
Thought so hard and so long
That, like proverbial Laputans,
They forgot the problem.
So did the citizens and the media.
No problem!
Then, there arose the question
Of quality of education.
A vazir had a bright suggestion!
Detain the learners for one more year hereafter
And that would settle the problem.
Yes, that settled the problem—of unemployment.
But soon a citizen asked in a feeble voice:
“What about quality?”
One vazir, a returned fellow, quipped:
“Quality died with the Gessler brothers!
Don’t you know?”
Everyone laughed—as if they understood!
— Ram, R. V.
Categories:
gessler, education,
Form: Free verse
Altdorf is a lovely village along the Reuss.
It has beautiful scenery that is choice.
What nerve these Austrians have in this town.
I think that Hermann Gessler is a clown!
He puts his hat on top of a pole in the town square.
We have to bow before it when we are there.
I and my son Walter would do no such thing.
We were both arrested for defying.
I told them I am not Austrian. I am Swiss.
My son and I will be put to death because of this.
We have one opportunity to escape the dead.
I must shoot an apple off my son’s head.
There is one fact that just about anyone knows:
I am very adept when in comes to handling crossbows.
If I accomplish this feat, we will earn our freedom.
There must be a way to quash this Austrian scum.
Thanks to wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Categories:
gessler, adventure, history, son, son,
Form: Rhyme