By Joe Cone
O,
let the heroes vanish
An’ nations if they will,
But
keep the sword of Bingen,
An’
that of Bunker Hill.
An’
keep the curfew ringin’
Forever an’ a day
By
Nebo’s lonely mountain,
Un’ keep the One Hoss Shay.
Let
them soldiers of the Legain
Be ever undismayed
An’,
led by Barbara Frietchie
Still charge the Light Brigade.
I.
You
can talk uv graduations, them uv Harvard an’ uv Yale
An’
the colleges fur wimmin, given on a mighty scale,
With
their orators an’ poets, un’ their glee-clubs singin’ songs,
An’
the costly bands uv music an’ the gay an’ festive throngs,
But
I reckon fur excitement, an’ fur other things ez well
That
the Gungy graduation ain’t so fur from bein’ swell;
That
compared with wealth an’ numbers, an’ all other things combined,
That
the colleges here mentioned ain’t got Gungy much outshined.
II.
When
the school is out in Gungy, speakin’ uv the closin’ day,
It’s
a sort uv family gath’rin’, people near an’ fur away
Comin’
togged out in their broad cloth, an’ their alapaca gowns,
Ev’ry
buddy in the village an’ the near adjoinin’ towns.
‘Cuz
the closin’ day in Gungy is a mighty swell affair,
An’
the poor as well as wealthy has occasion to be there;
An’
the closin’ exercises are impressive ev’ry way,
An’
I’ll give to you the features uv the Gungy closin’ day.
III.
Ellen
Perkins is the teacher, she’s a normal graduate
An’
uv course her ways an’ methods they are strictly up to date;
She
hez taught the art uv singin’ so she hez ‘em sing with vim,
Our
“America” fur openin’, follered by a closin’ hymn.
Then
the children say together, some long poem appropriate,
Then
they give an ex’erbition uv gymnastics up to date.
O,
it’s somethin’ else than playin’, an’ sech nonsense, by the way,
Is
the deestrict graduation on ol’ Gungy closin’ day!
IV.
Speakin’
pieces is the feature that creates the most unrest,
An’
the jedge he hands out prizes for the ones who do the best;
They
hev spents weeks in the learnin’, an’ the praticin’ at home,
An’
the most uv ‘em hev got ‘em finer than a fine-tooth comb.
An’
it fires our souls with spirit an’ it gives our hearts a thill
When
a youngster gits a-goin’ on the “Sword of Bunker Hill”.
An’
ag’in we see the soldiers fightin’ in that bloody fray
Jest
ez real as kin be pictured on our Gungy closin’ day.
V.
Then
Abe Crockett’s boy he rises, an’ we see his eyeballs shine
When
he tells uv fer-off Bingen, uv ol’ Bingen on the Rhine;
An’
we feel a chokin’ feelin’ an’ we skurce kin hide out tears
When
we listen to the soldier who lay dyin’ in Algiers.
An’
we shet our fists up tightly an’ we’re ready then to fight
When
some gal declares the curfew, “O, it murst not ring tonight!”
An’
we pity sweet Maude Miller as she’s rakin’ uv the hay,
An’
we’d give the Jedge a thrashin’ ef we had him closin’ day!
VI.
Then
ag’in we’re moved to sadness, an’ we see the open grave
That’s
is close to Nebo’s Mountain, on this side o’ Jordan’s wave;
Til’
some youngster shuffles forward an’ clears up the atmosphere
By
recitin’ uv that poem uv the Ride uv Paul Revere!
Then
the jedge he gives the prizes an’ the exercises done,
We
jest hang around the schoolhouse till the settin’ uv the sun;
An’
we feel we’ve done our duty, an’ we homeward take our way,
With
the comfort uv another bang-up Gungy closin’ day.
O
poems may be written,
To beat the Hesperus;
An’
graduation’s given
With more uv frills an’ fuss,
But
keep the Curfew ringin’,
An’ keep Paul on the go;
An’
keep Maud Miller hayin’,
An’ let the Jordon flow.
An’
keep the soldier dyin’,
At Bingin on the Rhine;
The
gungy graduations
Are good enough fur mine!
June 1, 1910
sword of Bingen / Bingen on the Rhine:
"Tell
my mother that her other son shall comfort her old age;
For
I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage.
For
my father was a soldier, and even as a child
My
heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild;
And
when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,
I
let them take whate'er they would, --- but kept my father's sword;
And
with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine,
On
the cottage wall at Bingen, --- calm Bingen on the Rhine.
"Tel
my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head,
When
the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant tread,
But
to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
For
her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die;
And
if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name,
To
listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,
And
to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine),
For
the honor of old Bingen, --- dear Bingen on the Rhine.
from:
‘Bingen on the Rhine’
by
Caroline E. Norton (1808-1887)
also: Saint
Hildegard of Bingen (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hildegard_of_Bingen)
(holding sword)
The one-horse shay is a light,
covered, two-wheeled carriage for two persons, drawn by a single
horse. The body is chair like in shape and has one seat for passengers
positioned above the axle which is hung by leather braces from wooden springs
connected to the shafts.
Mount
Nebo is an elevated ridge in Jordan, approximately 817 meters
(2,680 ft) above sea level, mentioned in the Bible as the
place where Moses was granted a view of the Promised Land.
Barbara Fritchie was a friend of Francis
Scott Key and they participated together in a memorial service at Frederick,
Maryland, when George Washington died. A central figure in the
history of Frederick, she lived in a house that has, in modern times, become a
stop on the town's walking tour. According to one story, at the age of 95 she
waved the Union flag in the middle of the street to block, or at
least antagonize Stonewall Jackson's troops, as they passed through
Frederick in the Maryland Campaign. This event is the subject of John
Greenleaf Whittier's poem of 1864, Barbara Frietchie. When Winston
Churchill passed through Frederick in 1943, with President Roosevelt on
their way to Shangra-la (now Camp David), he recited the poem from memory, an
excerpt of which follows:
"Shoot, if you
must, this old gray head,
But spare your country's flag," she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word;
"Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.....
But spare your country's flag," she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word;
"Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.....
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