Longfellow Revisited

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the bus ride of one the Tea Party holds dear.
In the spring of the year two thousand eleven
When only a hermit knew not Sarah Palin,
The end of whose journey was not Concord, Mass.,
But New Hampshire with hope to Mitt Romney outclass.

She set straight a record en route farther south
When, in answer to questions, came out of her mouth
That— one, if by land, and two if by sea,
The farmers embattled would make history
Attacking the Redcoats asleep in their tents
Except for a startling turn of events.

The turncoat Revere got instructions all wrong.
In a tavern in Charlestown half the night long
He’d drunk too much so when the town clock struck twelve,
His George-the-3rd orders he opted to shelve.
Cut off at the bar when the town clock struck one,
He, too, rushed to Concord to see foes undone.

You don’t know the rest: when the town clock struck two,
Sot Paul told the Brits what’s a chore to construe.
They “weren’t gonna be takin’ away our arms
By ringin’ those bells.” (The church bells as alarms?)
“We were goin’ to be sure, and we were goin’ to be free.”
Paul must have snored lots when the town clock struck three.