With Apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In light of new scholarship, it's time to update to an old classic:


Listen my children, an I shall tell,
Of Paul Revere and his freedom bell.
The British were coming, gun owners beware!
So Paul saddled Sarah, his pure snow-white mare.

He rode town to town ringing freedom alarms,
And said to the British, "You can't take our arms!"
He said to the British, "In this land of ours,
We won't bow and scrape to your socialist czars!"

He'd ride into town with a jounce and a jolt,
And deftly unholster his trusty old Colt,
He'd aim for the steeple, so tall and so proud,
And shoot at the church bell, the clang would be loud.

The bell that he shot gave an ear-splitting "ding".
He'd say, "Shove off, limeys, and go tell your king
We won't be disarmed by some powder-wigged twits.
You won't pry our guns from our cold and dead mitts!"

He'd shout to the British, so loud and so clear,
"You can't have my gun, and my name's Paul Revere!
I've come here to tell you by bells and by shots,
You can't grab our guns, you old red-coated snots!"

His mare was as strong as the Lion of Judah,
As fierce and as swift as the bright barracuda.
He rode out of town with a wave of his gun,
And said to his snow-white mare, "Run, Sarah, run!"

And that is my tale, kids, but better not look,
The story's not found in a history book.
Beware of the tales of that old lamestream media,
They're socialist lies that the Obots will feed ya!


I think I'll bask in my self-satisfied snarkliciousness for a while. Sometime later this week, I'll put up a serious post about a young lady who is largely unknown outside of the Hudson Valley, but who should be known throughout the country as a national heroine and a true feminist icon.