Rebel
Without a Clause
He had teaching not only on the brain,
But in every corpuscle and platelet.
Teaching English to the Appalachian—
Something he hadn’t larned to hate yet—
Was tol’rabble, really, not all that hard.
But as mangled part’ciples ‘cum’lated
Like young ‘uns and wrecks in the front yard,
As his brain became as confed’rate-plated
As poor Guv’nor Wallace standing in the door
To bar each blackguard Yankee intonation,
He knew he’d become one of ‘em, to the core.
Born agin to The Birth
of a Nation,
He retired to that unspeakable hell
Where ornerary folk don’t talk good or spell well.
Robert Forrey, 2011
