If I were to tell people that the name "George Lincoln Rockwell" means nothing else to me except a vague image that he liked uniforms, lived somewhere near Chicago, and was some kind of ideological icon to the movement, chances are I would not be believed.
Nonetheless, it is true. I know next to nothing about the man except that he was martyred quite a few years ago. I always thought of him as rather stern.
Therefore, it came as pleasant surprise to me to find out that he had a funny bone. The poem below was sent to me, and being the compulsive stylist that I am, I fixed its cadence a bit and gave it a more poignant ending. I know that George will forgive me, wherever he may dwell as he looks down on us.
Here goes - and for this one, I'll probably get in trouble. It's called
"The Fable of the Ducks and Hens."
Many, many years ago,
When animals could speak.
A wondrous thing the ducks befell,
Their tale is quite unique.
Down by a pond dwelt all these ducks,
Ten thousand at the least.
Their duckish joys were undisturbed
By any man or any beast.
One day down near the entrance gate,
There was an awful din.
A hundred hens all out of breath
Were begging to come in."Oh let us in!" these poor birds cried,
"Before we do expire!"
"Tis only by the merest inch
That we escaped the fire!"
Their feathers burned, their combs a-droop,
They were the saddest sight.
They'd run a hundred miles or more,
All day and then all night.
"Come in, come in!" the ducks all quacked,
"For you our hearts do bleed!
We'll share our happy lot with you,
Just tell us what you need!"
And so these poor bedraggled hens
Amongst the ducks moved in.
For, after all, the ducks declared,
"We're sisters 'neath the skin."
Before too many months had passed,
The hens were good as new.
They sent for all their rooster friends,
And these were welcomed too.
To please their host, these chickens tried
To waddle and to quack.
To simulate the duckish ways
They quickly learned the knack.
This pleased the flock of ducks because
It gratified their pride.
But hear my tale and learn how they
Got taken for a ride.
The ducks, it seemed, spent all their time
In fixing up their place,
In growing food and building homes
And cleaning every space.
They asked the hens what they would do
To earn their daily bread.
"We'll teach and write and entertain,
And buy and sell," they said.
And so these hens began to teach
The baby ducks and chicks.
They traded food and eggs and things,
With many clever tricks.
They wrote great books & put on shows,
Of genius they'd no lack.
It wasn't long till chickens owned
The Duckville Daily Quack.
One day a mother duck who took
Her ducklings to the lake,
Was flabbergasted when one said,
"A swim I will not take!"
"Why ducklings always swim!" she gasped,
"It's what you're built to do!
Like bunnies hop, and crickets chirp,
And cows most always moo!"
"Your just old fashioned, fuddy duck,
That stuff is all old hat!"
"It's wrong for birds to swim;
...besides, It's too cold on my little pratt!"
"Oh fie!" the mother duck exclaimed,
"You're talking like a fool!"
Up quacked the other ducks and said,
"He's right! Ms. Hen taught that in school!"
"Such things must stop!" the mother cried,
"Those hens can't teach such lies!
For sheer ingratitude and nerve,
I'm sure this takes the prize!"
But she was wrong, for even then
The hens did thump the tub.
Demanding they be let into,
The Duckville Swimming Club.
"But you don't swim!"the ducks all cried,
"To join, why should you care?"
"That's not the point!" the hens replied,
"To exclude us isn't fair!"
The younger ducks, who'd been to school,
Agreed right there and then,
"To keep them out is bigotry!"
"T'would just be ANTI-HEN...!"
Outnumbered by the younger ducks,
The old ducks soon did loose;
And so they let the hens all in,
If they would pay their dues.
That night the Duckville Daily Quack
Contained this banner spread:
"Reactionary Ducks Are Licked!
AND DUCKVILLE MOVES AHEAD!"
Down at the Duckville Gaiety,
The youngsters laughed with glee
At cracks about "Old Fuddy' Ducks"
In burlesque repartee.
Next day the hens were at the club,
A petition they'd sent around.
They objected to the swimming fund
With fury and with sound.
"You use our dues to fix the pond,
to keep it neat and trim,
"is surely wrong," they said,
"You KNOW we do not swim!"
"God help us!" cried a wise old duck,
"These chickens have gone mad!"
"We'll take this to the court, by George,
And justice will be had!"
But when they went up to the judge,
Imagine their dismay!
A CHICKEN-JUDGE decreed that they
Now had a fine to pay!
"Minorities must have their rights!" The judge declared right then.
"To use hen's dues to fix the pond
Is very ANTI-HEN...!"
Once more the Duckville Daily Quack
Emblazoned across the page:
"Old Fuddy Ducks Refuse to See
The Great New Coming Age!"
In Duckville church on Sunday morn,
The preacher spoke these words,
"Discrimination's got to stop!
Remember we're all birds!"
The wisest duck in all the town
Sat down in black despair.
"I'll write a book," he thought, and then
"This madness I will bare!"
"Let Swimmers Swim, let Hoppers Hop,
Let Each One Go His Way.
Let No One Force a Fellow Bird!"
Was what he had to say.
"Twas wrong to force the hens to swim
So here's the problem's crux;
It's just as bad for hens to try
To chicken-ize our ducks!"
"I can't print that,"the printer said,
"T'will put me in a mess!"
"My shop is mortgaged to the hens,
The chickens own my press!"
The worried duck next tried to warn
His friends by speech and pen.
Young ducks fresh home from school now jeered
"He's just an Anti-Hen...!"
Now up the stream a little way
Was Gooseville, on the lake.
The hens had come to Gooseville too,
But Geese were more awake.
When hens began to spoil the young
And Gooseville's laws to flout,
The Geese Rose Up in Righteous Wrath
And Simply Threw Them Out...!!!
Of course, you know where they all ran;
On Duckville they converged.
"We've got to take these refugees."
The Duckville hens had urged.
The Duckville Daily Quack declared:
"These Geese Will Stop at Naught!
"They Plan to Conquer all the World!"
"Atrocities They've Wrought!"
"That's right!"the young ducks all agreed,
"We'll help our fellow birds!
These Geese have plans to conquer us! ....
We've read the Quack's own words!"
They let the hens from Gooseville in,
The whole bedraggled pack.
.... And every hen took up a job
at Duckville's Daily Quack!
When Duckville mayor's term was up,
The Quack put up it's Duck;
A vain and stupid duck was he,
A veritable cluck!
But when he praised the wild young ducks,
And cursed the evil Geese,
The Quack declared he was "all wise,"
His praise would never cease.
The hens chipped in to help this cluck
Give grain away for free.
The old ducks sadly shook their heads,
The problems they could see!
And sure enough, this stupid duck,
He was elected mayor.
From this point on, The Duckville ducks,
They never had a prayer.
The Mayor said, "Gooseville must GO!"
"We'll wipe them off the map!"
While Duckville slept, the scheming hens
For Gooseville set the trap.
They called the Geese by filthy names;
They filled their pond with sticks.
They helped the weasels catch the Geese,
and other hennish tricks.
The Geese got mad and threw the sticks,
"It's WAR!" the Quack announced.
"We ducks must Fight those evil Geese,
Till they've been soundly trounced!"
The ducks (who knew not of the tricks
Indulged in by their mayor),
Were filled with patriotic zeal,
And pitched right in for fair!
So when the ducks whipped all the Geese,
The Mayor called "Retreat!!"
"Our HENVILLE friends should really take
Gooseville's big main street!"
The hens were back in Gooseville now;
They starved and beat the Geese.
They prayed for "Peace"=97 but organized
The "HENVILLE ARMED POLICE!!!"
They drained the Geese's swimming pond,
De-Goose-ified their schools;
They wrung the Gooseville mayor's neck
On lately made-up rules.
They formed a council of the hens;
"UNITED BIRDS" 's the name.
The other birds who joined the thing
Did not perceive the game.
No sooner had they set this up,
Than they announced their plan:
To seize up Swanville as a home
For all their hennish clan.
They took a vote among the hens,
And everyone approved!
"Swanville was for the HENS!" they said,
"Way back, before we moved,"
And so they kicked the swans all out,
With Duckville's help and power
And Duckville couldn't understand
Why swans on THEM turned sour.
By this time, Duckville was a mess,
The young ducks had gone mad.
They stole and laughed at Truth and Law;
They went completely bad.
The hens were selling Loco Weed
in every nasty den.
But ducks who dared to mention this,
Were labeled "ANTI-HEN...!"
The hens all preached of Tolerance,
Invoked the "Golden Rule,"
And subsidized the indigent,
The greedy and the fool.
At last the very dumbest ducks
Began to smell a rat.
"This mayor is no good!"they cried,
"We're going to fix that!"
The hens had planned for even this
A candidate they had,
Whom even wise old ducks believed
Just never could be bad.
This Hen-tool duck whipped the Geese,
A soldier Duck was he.
Although the hens had set him up,
The Ducks all thought him free.
This Hen-tool got elected,
Through ignorance and greed,
Through hennish lies in Press & Speech,
Through Bribes of Chicken Feed.
The hens now kicked the ducks around
Without a blush of shame,
Until the mayor ran the town
In nothing else but name.
They pumped the Duck's pond dry;
They taught the ducks to crow,
While duckish numbers dwindled,
The hens began to grow.
The hens stirred up the happy crows
Out of the piney wood,
To Fight to Mix and Marry ducks
The name was "Brotherhood."
Things got so bad that fifty ducks,
Who knew the days gone by;
Took up their wives and children
Deciding they would fly.
They flew through storms and tempest;
They froze, and many died.
But on they drove, until, at last,
A lovely lake they spied.
They settled down exhausted,
But soon went straight to work;
To build and clear and cultivate,
No danger did they shirk.
Now after many years of toil,
This little band had grown.
The fields around were full of grain
From seeds that they had sown.
The first ducks had since died away;
Their struggles had long ceased.
Through bitter work and suffering,
Their joys had been increased.
One day, down near the entrance gate
There was an awful din;
A hundred hens, all out of breath,
Were begging to come in. . .
Thought for the Day:
"There are many truths of which the full meaning cannot be realized until experience has brought it home."
(John Stuart Mill, 1806-1873)