The Blue Raven
By C. P. CIPIUS
Once upon a day so dreary, Congress pondered, weak and weary
Over many a novel twist to laws that smacked of days of yore,
While it nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at the chamber door;
Only this and nothing more.
They were Blue Laws in the offing, with a ghastly, ghostly coughing,
Spreading germs of discontent, dissatisfaction, gloom—all o’er,
Causing men to shrink and shiver, many hearts to quake and quiver,
Hoping something would deliver them from all these laws that bore
Sorrow for them, evermore.
All day Sunday, people sleeping, while the rest are gently weeping,
And weeping as they never wept in all their lives before;
Blue Laws wrecked the joy of living, made men stern and unforgiving,
These laws passed, there was no living as in good old days of yore.
Happiness? No, nevermore.
Legislation’s undermining Freedom’s precepts—people pining
For the Liberty they thought was theirs and had so long before;
Straight-laced styles are fast becoming just the thing, you know, and bumming
Is to be about like slumming, which all people should abhor,
On the Sabbath, evermore.
Crooks and Purists now are pairing, common folks are all despairing,
Peace and joy and true contentment is a dream of ancient lore.
They can never think of dining, much less dare to talk of wining
Or they’d have the judges fining them and looking for their gore:
Wooden stocks, forevermore.
Oh, the country’s draped in mourning, black is everywhere adorning
All the houses in the land and crepe is seen on every door;
Hear the people softly crying for their Freedom that is lying
On its deathbed, slowly dying, sweating blood at every pore;
Freedom’s fled, forevermore.
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