Button McGee

I would like to recite for you one of my favorite poems. When I first heard this it just spoke right to my heart. I feel like it has become a part of me since my early childhood years. I t is so elegantly written. A wordsmith wrote this without doubt. Over the years I have gone back to it several times and it can always bring meaning to the place I am in life. It may seem abstract to some but if you have ever had the feeling of something speaking directly to your should you will know just what I am taking about.

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In London Towne a bairn wurst boure

nigh agin he’d head and wee

ah sure as hard hath finial hall

“depart forthwith” cried he.

The Parson skipped most flinchfully

avast an altered park

Until a lassie spied his three

long years before the dark.

“For shame!” said she, and widdled

devoid of cretinous mien

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his spiel in to the glen.

O how joyous under sunlight

the coelacanth and sundry

quarterdeck and poop alike

lost in the sea’s dark laundry.

McGee stood proudly, nevertheless

baring his buttressed blazer

into the murky briny depths

he was a steady gazer.

The Parson shouted “Verily!

My niece and norn, my Nancy!”

Defiant, thunderstruck and chuck

his brim and gait due fancy.

O’er running boards and capital

the mighty brink was dun

met certain of the inquisitors

that mitigated fun.

“Efraim McGee,” she primly spat

while nibbling on a chocolate

“Ye fed the raven to the cat,

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“Aye,” he nodded sagely

his eyes left all the while

“For e’en and o’er and after all

’twas jest ta see ye smile.”

The Parson’s shout was deafening

(if any had been near —

like the storied bruin of old

doing business by the mere)

“Nay!” he thundered. “Nay again!”

But to ears as if sewn shut

for as the buck in  autumnal glee

oft gets stuck in a rut.

Nancy she’s a seamstress now

at a factory in Killarney

Still with a sparkle in her one good eye

but not a little barny.

The Parson passed on a winter’s night

a soundless sparkling cold one

All one could see was black and white

crystalline if you could hold one.

And McGee he’s still a ranger’s weld

a-foraging in haste:

“Be ye a man with time in hand

or be ye just a waste.”

What a profound statement. Words that have true meaning are hard to come by. Many people will wander through life without ever experiencing what they can do for an open and active mind. The can drive you. They can heal you. They can be what this life is all about.

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