“And When the Band Played Hail to the Chief…” is the Third Line of the Last Song I Heard and I Thought What Is Our Chief Going to Do. I Hail Him But This Should We or Shouldn’t We Go to War Thing is , Well, It’s Old. Vietnam War Old. And As I Listened to Credence Clearwater, I Spied the Hummingbirds Sucking Away at the Trumpet Vine Bar, Er, Trellis. (Another 420 Character 9 Line Poem by Patty)

Hard to swallow

is how I describe the ideas in regard to attacking Syria.

What sweetener will it take for me to get the logic of dragging out the big guns yet again?

It’s like with the hummingbirds I see

burying themselves in the blossoms of the trumpet vines, inhaling the nectar

so as to wash down a nasty bug

or that spoonful of sugar Mary Poppins wielded

in order to get the kids to take their medicine.

It’s hard.

PATTY

Credence Clearwater’s Fortunate Son

Some folks are born to wave the flag,
Ooh, they’re red, white and blue.
And when the band plays “Hail to the chief”,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord,It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son, son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no,
Yeah!Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don’t they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no millionaire’s son, no.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no.Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord,
And when you ask them, “How much should we give?”
Ooh, they only answer More! more! more! yoh,It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no military son, son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, one.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate one, no no no,
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate son, no no no,