Freedom of God, Freedom of Whiskey

 

Freedom of God, Freedom of Whiskey

The king of France
was a fancy-pants.
“Join the church I desire
or I’ll set you on fire”
was the king’s decree,
so Bartholomew, ancestor of me,
chose for freedom of God to flee
in the year 1686 on a sailing ship
to New York, New York
a village of 800 folk
with no allegiance to the pope.

Bartholomew had a grandson named Peter.
With disdain of all that’s pompous,
with adze, froe, and cooper’s compass,
Peter built barrels by the Chesapeake Bay.
Barrels for gunpowder, barrels for tea,
barrels to blow the British into the sea.
Peter fought for George Washington and won the war,
then took his family from Baltimore
single file on horses through wilderness
to set up a cooperage
in the land of Kentucky
building barrels for corn, barrels for whiskey,
barrels for the sober and barrels for the frisky
with adze, froe, and cooper’s compass
and with disdain for all that’s pompous.

Peter had a grandson, John T
who moved west of the Mississippi.
John T cut trees and slid them downhill
to the river where he built a mill
making railroad ties to meet the demand
for tracks to stitch this unsettled land
from California to the Atlantic sands.
John T with a gift for oration
preached against slavery, the abomination.
In anger, for opening his mouth
a lynch mob came from the South.
They kidnapped John T
to hang him from a tree
near Canaan, Missouri.

From John T
the great-great grandson is me.
With tool belt, hammer, and drill
my heritage is the skill
to build what people need,
to speak one’s creed with a moral compass
with disdain for all that’s pompous.
We built whiskey barrels. We cut railroad ties.
Now I build houses and tell you no lies.

…..

Photo by amyvand

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