The Midnight Ride of Sarah Palin
It was bad enough when she botched up the history of Paul Revere earlier today...
He who warned, uh, the … the British that they weren't gonna be takin' away our arms, uh, by ringin' those bells and, um, by makin' sure that as he's ridin' his horse through town to send those warnin' shots and bells that, uh, we were gonna be secure and we were gonna be free … and we were gonna be armed.
It got even worse when Caribou Barbie gathered her kids, Bristol and Pistol and Stick and Twig and Spoon and told them, from memory, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's famous poem, "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere."
Listen my children and you shall hear
A poem that was wrote by some long-ago queer.
On someday in April, in Seventy-Six;
Very few men are fast and quick
Who remembers that famous day and year.
He said to a guy, "If the British march
By air or land from the town to-night,
Hang a flashlight aloft in the churchey arch
Of the South Church tower so the men can fight,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
If you add them all up, then that makes THREE!
Ready to ride and spread the news
To all the villagers, even the Jews,
For the country folk to be up with both arms."
Then he said "nitey nite" and with muffled oar
Silently swam to the other shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where rumor has it their sailors were gay,
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
That's a race horse name, he laughed with a roar!
Across the moon like a chocolate bar,
Like a huge black guy, that was magnified
By his own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, the guy through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The mumbling of men at the barrack door,
The sound of Brits, and the tramp of boots,
And the measured tread of the red coat galloots,
Marching down in their boots on the shore.
Then he climbed the tower of the Old South Church,
By the rickety stairs, with quietly tread,
To the churchy chamber overhead,
And startled the bats from where they did perch
On the sober rafters, that round him shown
Shadows and shapes that were his own,--
By the trembling ladder, high and tall,
To the openest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the windows of the town
Hoping some woman was showing it all.
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