Of Poems, Prayers and Promises.
There was this song called “The Box” by John Denver. I loved it as a kid, cause it had a nice “rhythm” to it and it talked about kids and a box. I just simply loved it. We had it on LP and I knew just one line from it, I used to chant these lines…slowly and sometimes as fast and as loud as I could.
“The box bound up with chains and locked with locks…”
Many years later, while in college I heard the song again. And for the first time realized all that it said and meant. It felt nice…revisiting a scrap of my childhood…I even remembered the little pithy…
“The box bound up with chains and locked with locks…”
It’s a wonderful song.
“The Box” from the album “Poems, Prayers and Promises (1971)”. John Denver.
Once upon a time, in the land of Hushabye,
Round about the wondrous days of yore.
They came across a sort of box,
bound up with chains and locked with locks,
And labeled "Kindly Do Not Touch, It's War."
A decree was issued round about all with a flourish and a shout,
and a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on the fore,
"Don't fiddle with this box, or break the chains, or pick the locks,
And Please... don't ever play about with war."
Well, the children understood, children happen to be good,
and they were just as good around the time of yore.
They didn't try to pick the locks, or break into that deadly box;
they never tried to play about with war.
Mommies didn't either, Sisters, Aunts, Grannies neither,
'cause they were quiet and sweet and pretty in those wondrous days of
yore.
Well... very much the same as now, and not the ones to blame somehow,
for opening up that deadly box of war.
But someone did... someone battered in the lid,
and spilled the insides out across the floor.
A sort of bouncy bumpy ball,
with flags and all the tears and horror that goes with war.
It bounced right out and went bashing all about,
and bumping into everything in store.
And what was sad and most unfair is that it didn't really seem to care,
much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for.
It bumped the children mainly, and I'll tell you this quite plainly,
It bumps them everyday... and more... and more,
and leaves them dead and burned and dying, thousands of them sick and
crying,
cause when it bumps... it's really very sore.
Now there's a way to stop the ball, it isn't difficult at all,
all it takes is wisdom.
I'm absolutely sure that we could get it back into the box...
and bind the chains and lock the locks.
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.
Well, that’s the way it all appears,
cause it's been bouncing round for years and years
in spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore.
And the time they came upon The Box, bound up with chains and locked
with locks...
and labeled "Kindly Do Not Touch, It's War."
Labels: Fiction
2 Comments:
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Looking for information and found it at this great site... » » »
said... On Wednesday, November 22, 2006 9:22:00 am
said... On Thursday, February 22, 2007 3:29:00 am
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