The Box
It is the tenth anniversary of the day we invaded a country that had not harmed us. Ten years ago we neutralized a nation that was no threat to us. The Boston Globe's token conservative, Jeff Jacoby, thought it was a great idea. He noted that 70 percent of Americans agreed with him at the time.
The Unindicted Co-Conspirator and I were not among them. We still want to see Bush and Cheney in the dock at the Hague. We still think it was the worst and most costly foreign policy blunder in America's history, both in terms of money and in the far more expensive terms of human lives lost and ruined.
In remembrance, here is Kendrew Lascelles' song, The Box.
The Box
Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-a-Bye,
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 all about,
All with a flourish and a shout,
And a gaily coloured mascot,
Tripping lightly on before.
“Don’t fiddle with this deadly box,
Or break the chains, or pick the locks,
And please don’t ever mess around with war”.
Well, the children understood -
Children happen to be good,
And they were just as good around the wond’rous days of yore.
They didn’t try to pick the locks, or break into the 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 wond’rous days of yore.
Well, 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
Made up of guns and flags and all
The tears and horror and the death
That goes along with war.
Well, it bounced right out -
And went bashing all about
And bumping 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 every day, 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, and I’m absolutely sure,
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 bouncin’ round for years and years -
In spite of all the wisdom wizzed,
Since those wond’rous days of yore….
And the time they came across that box,
Bound up with chains, and locked with locks
And labelled, "Kindly Do Not Touch - It's War."
The Unindicted Co-Conspirator and I were not among them. We still want to see Bush and Cheney in the dock at the Hague. We still think it was the worst and most costly foreign policy blunder in America's history, both in terms of money and in the far more expensive terms of human lives lost and ruined.
In remembrance, here is Kendrew Lascelles' song, The Box.
The Box
Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-a-Bye,
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 all about,
All with a flourish and a shout,
And a gaily coloured mascot,
Tripping lightly on before.
“Don’t fiddle with this deadly box,
Or break the chains, or pick the locks,
And please don’t ever mess around with war”.
Well, the children understood -
Children happen to be good,
And they were just as good around the wond’rous days of yore.
They didn’t try to pick the locks, or break into the 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 wond’rous days of yore.
Well, 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
Made up of guns and flags and all
The tears and horror and the death
That goes along with war.
Well, it bounced right out -
And went bashing all about
And bumping 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 every day, 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, and I’m absolutely sure,
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 bouncin’ round for years and years -
In spite of all the wisdom wizzed,
Since those wond’rous days of yore….
And the time they came across that box,
Bound up with chains, and locked with locks
And labelled, "Kindly Do Not Touch - It's War."