Colder Still That Metal Box

Rerun III

‘Folk’ Activism; a Kind of Modern Spectacle. (Joseph Crosby/Daily Bruin senior staff)

Pray for those whose rescue is
Only ruin - naught beside
Fate is cruel, and freedom more
And duty ill betide
Cold comfort in a picket line
Water and not wine
  Colder still that metal box
  Which knows our ev'ry sign;

But where has their redeemer gone
For their kin make good
Of this bargain made unthought
Pledged, not understood--?
Firebrands burn and light aflame
Light is light the same;
  Colder still that metal box
  Though it bear our name;

Its listless eyes must edge to sleep
Digits like a song
Whose guarantee, whose lullaby
Tells us right from wrong
I do not come to judge, it said
Black and white and red --
  Colder still that metal box
  The living and the dead.

It does not have our flesh and blood
Remaining pure ideal
Their bones must feel its icy prod
If their bones can feel;
Cold comfort from their Bacchus-bliss
Vinegar and piss--
  Colder still that metal box
  In whom their succor is.

Old, and yet topical! - The Author