Some pics from our colonial reenactments!

Figures stood all in a line.

Fog flowing through the pines

Like a river of smoke.

They had little hope

Of standing against the tide.

Fear gripped at each one’s heart

As they stilled to do their part.

The ground beneath shook

And each one strained to look

To see when the battle would start.

“Muskets to the ready!” came the cry

As bayonets were raised into the sky.

Each one stood tall,

Ready to fall,

And praying death would pass by.

Great fire belched forth from the hill,

Shot came hurling in, fast and shrill.

Gouts of earth

Began to burst

And the thunder came closer still.

Then out of the haze it came.

The commander shouted, “Take aim!”

As he drew his sword,

Swift came the horde,

To crush and strangle and maim.

“Fire!” was the shout in the din

As the enemy came rumbling in.

Rounds bounced off scales

Plates hard as nail

And the great worm came on with a grin.

The army of darkness awoke.

Fear clutched at the line and it broke.

Weapons were downed

Onto the ground

And still it kept dealing deaths stroke.

As they fled into the trees

One chance to turn and see

Their commander stood steady,

His sword at the ready,

Battling on with the three.

Anger fell with one swift slash.

Black blood covered his sash.

Still two fought on,

Fierce and strong,

As claw and blade met with a clash.

Fear was downed with a smite

As comrades came back from their flight.

Their courage returned,

Death’s gaze was spurned

And faith returned to the fight.

The greatest beast of them all,

Stood fierce, so menacing and tall

And shrouded in mist,

Down came the fist

And the brave commander began to fall.

Blinded by hot choking steam

The line fell back from the scream.

Unable to see

Who the victor would be,

They felt helpless and trapped in a dream.

And as the vapor began to clear,

They found the creature’s body so near

And amidst the great heap,

As if asleep,

Their commander laid there with his gear.

The blade that he held was the best,

Its point drove deep in the chest

Of the serpent so bold,

That dragon of old,

He had finally laid ignorance to rest.

And now, as they bear him away,

Fear, anger and ignorance at bay.

We all pause a while

And think, with a smile.

His knowledge shines into our day.

In honor of the memory of

Robert “Bob” McConnell Rice

On the occasion of his Wake

Saturday, March 6, 2004

J. David Cox…‘Coon’ to Robert

This is the McConnell tartan.