George Spangled Banner

MEANINGFUL SCRAWLINGS CONCERNING UNWARRANTED PYROTECHNIC ASSAULT ON NATIONAL PARK SERVICE GS-5s IN TRANSIT TO CULTURAL RESOURCE ASSESSMENT OF MOORE’S CREEK, NORTH CAROLINA…or ODE TO GEORGE

Oh say can you see by the eve’s waning light

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming

The Park Service van, in a perilous fight

Out the windows we watched bottle rockets were streaming

And the rockets’ red glare, M-80s bursting in air

Gave proof through the night that George Fischer was there

O say did that van those lowly GS-5’s save

From the bombs’ unholy flight of that acerbic old knave.

II

On the lap of the craven, powdery mists did they creep

Oe’r the hallowed machine which gave nary a beep

Fischer’s mag to be used to seek ferrous and steel

Now used as a stage, M-80s to peel

The window he cracked, to loose free his assault

In his glory he reigned, anal-retent to fault

O yay did that van keep those lowly grads saved

From the evil designs of that unholy knave.

III

See, while the Fischerman crew piled bombs at his order

The van grads had stolen away from Pedro’s South of the Border

They both stole away from Pedro’s in flight

But had also partook every bottle rocket in sight

From George’s stock, now reduced by a few

The grads rallied their course while hidden from view

In their van they did flee causing Fischer to rave

“On to Wilmington!” now pursuing dark plans quite grave.

IV

The evening was striped by rocket and flare

But the grad student stock was beginning to wear

The last rocket was placed in the breach of its bottle

And the driver instructively mashed down the throttle.

The beleagured crew’s van burst forth in a surge

And that rocket was loosed with a prayer and a dirge…

Anew the Fischerman prepped a pyrotechnic assault

But mistakenly cracked the porthole to his vault

The grads’ rocket streaked through the perilous crack

And entered Knave’s Haven striking walls with a SMACK!!!

V

As the rockets new path circled inside his truck

The Fischerman panicked – he’d run out of luck

The M-80 primed slid off from the mag

And dropped to the floor causing Fischer to gag

It rolled out of view and escaped from his grip

In chaos and panic his mind it did slip

A flash and a bang!!, Fischer’s cradle was rocked

His Park Service truck, inside he was locked

His steed filled with smoke but a silence ensued

His ears were all blocked—Fischer knew he was screwed

VI

As we rolled into Wilmington, that night to pass

Fischer’s thousand yard stare all evening would last

He mumbled and mused, remembering the FLASH!

And spewed forth his creed, “In God we trust..All others pay cash!!”

O thus be it ever where free men shall stand

Those GS-5 grad students a select and brave band

Are held in our memory, so strong and so brave

Defeated at last, that acerbic old knave.