All hail to you O' Settlers of old,
I admire your courage,
Your stamina and guile.
Pity the modern man who tries to match your feat,
He wouldn't make it a hundred miles.
Honor to you O' Soldiers past,
Your sacrifice appreciated and celebrated
By those you protected.
Despair befalls the modern warrior,
Left only with scars, pilloried and neglected.
All praise to you O' Christians afore,
Your steadfast faith tenaciously accepts
Your fate in the jaws of the lions.
Dare not to compare O' modern pretenders,
You shroud your sins in the cloak of tolerance,
And hence your Father is cryin'.
Glory to you O' Artisans of the Renaissance,
Masters of beauty,
Fit to depict the saints.
Disgrace befits your modern counterpart,
Their sculptures are blobs, their canvas but
Globs of paint.
Wistful dreams of all who came before,
Ages of dignity and character,
So glorious and sublime.
Alas! I am a modern man, such a pitiful
Ending to a marvelous tale.
Left only the regret of a man beyond his time.
Written by: Keith D. Rodebush - March, 2009