They came with ships across the oceans,
With views how things are to be done,
By hard working days under the sun,
Filling this world with their notions.
In time, they left again for home,
Leaving canals and rails, language and laws,
Some good ideas. Some with flaws.
We no longer have the peaceful shalom.
Gone the old traditional order.
We inherited the planes and ships,
And, odd lines to be called borders.
Their language lingers on our lips,
A Victorian Queen—many adored her.
‘Tho now we write our new scripts.
Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.