O Tempora (Nova) (for p.r.)

As Robin once said to Alan-a-Dale

In the middle of making a song:

“Perhaps our approach to this whole hero thing

Is quite fundamentally wrong.

 

I mean, let’s think hard who’s got power or not

In England—tho’, yes, it’s a bitch—

Not lepers and peasants and freeholders, but

That 1% who form the rich.

 

Who owns all the castles which stand on the hills

And give the whole place that bleak look?

Who’s skimming the taxes they pay to the state

While cooking the whole Domesday Book?

 

When Richard the Lion went on his Med cruise,

What profit could our peasants hope

Would come back to them and not to the king

And his barons and maybe the Pope?

 

And then there’s John-Boy, who gets to play king,

Although it’s quite clear he’s unwrapped,

While big-bro spends time in the Austrian court

And protests that he’s really kidnapped—

 

Another excuse—as if there’s a need!

For milking the serfs of each groat,

And angel, and crown, and thripenny bit—

To pay off King Dick’s ransom note!”

 

“Now, Robin, that’s no way to talk,” said Friar Tuck.

“Your thinking has got a queer bent!”

“Now don’t get me started on tithing,” said Rob.

The church, too, is pure 1%.

 

Cathedrals aren’t built out of cardboard and air—

‘It’s something the poor understand’

You say, but, while they starve to pay for the thing

You live off the fat of the land.

 

So, consider, Little John, our Sherwoodian life—

Well, yes, you could say we are free—

We don’t pay the taxes, or slave in the fields,

But, remember, we live in a tree!

 

We’re un-unionized, we have no health care,

No visible savings to mention

And when one’s too old to poach the King’s deer,

Will any retire on a pension?”

 

“That’s true, Rob, that’s true,” said his friend, Little John,

Though we may be as merry as May

And drink all that nut brown ale Alan sings of,

Which one has a 401K?”

 

“You see what I mean? We’ve been totally wrong—

We’ve gotten it backwards, I’m sure!

From now on, we’re joining that fat 1%

By doing like them: rob the poor!

 

So, Alan, retuning your harp, be prepared

To make a new song in a blink,

A ballad—‘How We Changed to Move with the Times

And so became ‘Robbing Hood, Inc.’!”

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