I've sailed upon its waters long, this stormy sea of Wreck
I know to not talk Politics but still say, what the Heck
If my dear brother WoodDorkers can't hold themselves in check
I'll jump right in and take a swim with those who have no neck

And neckless be they (some of them) who curse the Constitution
And say that this brief document can't rule an Institution
That is so far and wide and deep and thus prone to Confusion
As to confound Interpreters engaged in Prostitution

The "Nine Old Whores" sit on their Bench, beginning each October
To render their opinions for us folks, who hope they're sober
And their opinions rule our lives, delivered from the Bench
And those both necked and neckless hear, and feel their buttcheeks
clench

Now I don't know what you might say but I have found no cause
To cheer all their opinions in a season, without pause
I find a lot that bothers me and much of it that gnaws
I often wish a better way to verify our laws

But I'll admit that's sour grapes
(I've called those old whores "reckless apes")
I've cursed their thoughts and their decisions
I've cursed their words and imprecisions

I've railed and cursed and vilified
(I may have said I hope they died)
They've burned me up until I fried
But then I take a look inside

And there I find a neckless man
Who curses that Amazing Plan
That's ruled this far-wide-depthless Land
For all these generations

And that is when I know I'm wrong
This Document that's kept us strong
Through Troubles and Nights all too long
That buried other Nations

Has earned its place in my Respect
And so I will try to reflect
On History and its neglect


(And try to lengthen out my neck)





(burma shave)




Regards,
Tom.

Thomas J.Watson - Cabinetmaker (ret.)
tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet (real email)
http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1