The musings and meandering thoughts of a crotchety old man as he observes life in the world and in a small, rural town in South East Nebraska. My Pledge-Nulla dies sine linea-Not a day with out a line.
With apologies to Lord Tennyson. Perhaps the blog poet-laureate can polish up this attempt:
I Brick-by-brick, brick-by-brick, Brick-by-brick onward, All facing liturgical East Stood the brave Fathers. “Forward, the Sanctus Bells! Forward the Right Brigade “Say the Black, do the Red! “he said. Facing the stares of Death Stood the brave Fathers.
II “Forward, the Sanctus Bells!” Was there a priest dismayed? The parishioners knew No one had blundered. Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to genuflect and cry. Into the valley of Death Stood the brave Fathers.
III Heretics to the right of them, Hetrodox to the left of them, Susan From The Parish Council in front of them Bullied and tamboreened; Lashed at with vitriol and bile, Boldly they turned towards the Lord , Into the stares of Death, Into the mouth of hell Stood the brave Fathers.
IV Flashed all their aspergillia bright, Flashed as they turned to the light Holy Water Sprinlkering ad-libbers in flight, Leading a holy army, while All Christendom wondered. Plunged in the Satan-smoke Right through the line of extraordinary ministers they broke; Liturgical Dancer, erotic prancer — all Reeled from the Aspergillium stroke Shattered and sundered. Then they strode back, but not Not all the brave Fathers.
V Heretics to the right of them, Hetrodox to the left of them, Susan From The Parish Council in front of them Bullied and tamboreened; While priest and bishop fell. They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of hell, All that was left of them, Left of the brave fathers.
VI When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All Christendom wondered. Honour the charge they made! Honour the Right Brigade, Noble brave fathers!