Set Down Your Glass

Don't interrupt me is what the mean S.O.B. shouted

when the din in the inn got to be too much and he just

couldn't think and talk out loud and listen to all the pitiful

patter falling out of everyones' mouth and with his loud

enough tough touch he'd soften them up once he'd shut

them up and wounded their pride he'd smile and say,

and now where was I, oh, that's right, the story of stolen

glory, the days long forgot, daily remembered in the hearts

that were torn apart, eighteen and nineteen were their ages

lead by a mean man of twenty going on ten million, made

of stone turned to flesh just to get into that mess men

were making of Europe and he woke from the bedrock

locked away in the men's mothers' hearts.