Blazingcatfur’s Poetry Corner: It’s Not Often You’ll See Section 13 (1) & Epic In The Same Sentence…

Here’ the original “A Ballad of John Nicholson” now try the new version by reader R.

A Ballad of Rob Nicholson
(I’m sure Newbolt would approve)

It fell in the year of Majority
It fell in the year of Majority
At darkest of the night,
Rob Nicholson by Toronto came,
On his way to Ottawa fight.

And as he by Toronto came,
He thought what he must do,,
And he sent the judges fair greeting,
To try if they were true.

“God grant your Honours length of days,
And friends when need shall be;
And I pray you send the lawyers hither,
That they may speak with me.”

The morrow through Toronto town
The lawyers rode in state;
They came to the house of Rob Nicholson,
And stood before the gate.

The chief of judges Barbra Lynch,
She was both proud and sly;
Her purse contained the Thirteenth Clause,
She held her chin full high.

She marked the lawyers how they hid
Their copies behind their backs;
“Now wherefore make ye such ado
If this redneck fool do yack?

“He has won elections for himself
In truth I know not how,
But though he has got a majority
He dare not claim it now.”

Right haughtily before them all
In full red robes she trod,
The Thirteenth Clause was in full view,
Equal she felt to God.

They had not been an hour together,
A scanty hour or so,
When Barbra Lynch rose in her place
And turned about to go.

Then swiftly came Rob Nicholson
Between the door and her,
With anger smouldering in his eyes,
That made the red robes blur.

“You are over-hasty, Barbra Lynch,” —
Oh, but his voice was low!
He held his wrath with a curb of iron
That furrowed cheek and brow.

“You are over-hasty, Barbara Lynch,
When that the rest are gone,
I have a word that may not wait
To speak with you alone.”

The lawyers passed in silence forth
And stood the door behind;
To go before the game was played
Be sure they had no mind.

But there within Rob Nicholson
Turned him on Barbra Lynch,
“Now that we’ve got a majority
This ought to be a cinch.

“Did you know we won the election?
And yet you know not why?
We brook no doubt of our majority,
We rule until we die.

“Were I the one last Conservative
Drawing the breath of life,
And you the chief lawyer of all
That stir this land to strife —

“Were I,” he said, “but a blogger,
And you a Supreme Court judge,
So long as the soul was in my body
I would refuse to budge.

“Rip up, rip up the Thirteenth Clause,
Loud its demise proclaim;
Your lawyers saw your insolence,
And they shall see your shame.”

When Barbra Lynch came to the door
Scrap paper burned her hand,
For there in long and silent lines
She saw the lawyers stand.

When Barbra Lynch drove from the gate
Her chin was on her breast:
The lawyers said, “The elected rule
Obedience is best.”