Southern Legitimacy Statement: I live in Charlottesville Virginia. Today is the 12th of August. That statue is still there. And it shouldn’t.
The Monument
I used to be the statue that
people respected and looked at;
but now I am the source of shame
as all my friends forget my name.
There was a time, a war got won —
we didn’t tweet, we used a gun;
we didn’t have deodorant
and liked a big, fat monument.
As I recall, most folks I knew
were proud to see me a statue;
but now it seems their relatives
are vituperating me, what gives?
I used to get a lot of praise
synonymous with holidays;
they put me on a coin one time
but now my face ain’t worth a dime.
You should have seen the paintings I
got painted in, a real good guy;
but now they call me a villain
and scorn the color of my skin.
The times have changed, and tipped the scales
so no one likes us dead white males;
they canceled me in my birthplace
and threw red paint across my face.
I used to live in the town square,
admired for ancient warfare;
but now they want to melt me down
and deconstruct my past renown.
Back in the day, most things were good
with patriotic, stout manhood;
the only people less than thrilled
were mainly bad guys, who got killed.
We didn’t have a bunch of gripes
from haters of the stars and stripes;
we didn’t find ourselves canceled
because our mustaches got old.
One day I was exemplary,
next day they’re throwing rocks at me;
it’s hard to be a monument
consid’ring what I represent.
