I will let my deserving elders have their say.
I’ve assumed their name as my sobriquet,
born into a cast of laborers daft and droll
whose achievements are alleged on a winding scroll.
Ma at the cradle recited the myths
exhumed by imprudent Pa out of narrow crypts.
And when Pa at length succumbed to the dreaded curse,
Ma wheeled him out on a rickety hearse.
Sure enough, things from that time on were that much worse.
Years later we were able to regain control
by pleading at the seams of rock ‘n roll.
There were times when our endurance began to flag
and siding with the underdog became a drag.
But we played it up to the seated throng
and now and then the oration became our song.
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[Next: The Taskmaster]