Two American Fables--a Century Apart

(In 2012 I published the following in The WestView News. It was in 1999 that I edited a novel for Macmillan, Empire of Shadows  by Richard E. Crabbe, that included a poem about beavers. The author said it was "anonymous"--which I have to take at his word--I havebeen unable to reach him. I altered the wording in order to show that modern rap and hip hop employ traditional rhythms, and aside from slang and "attitude", these are essentially the same poem.In my "modern version", imagine a scratching record rhythm as accompaniment.)

Once a company of beavers, in their engineering fury,

took a notion that their mission was to dam the big Missouri.

Under consecrated leaders they assembled in convention

for the instant prosecution of their notable intention.

They were able hardwood biters, they were noble timber topplers.

They beavered down the willows and felled the heavy poplars.

They laid them on the riffle. They were very, very clever.

They were brilliant – but the river paid them no regard whatever.

When we try to curb the surges of unchanging human nature,

or quench a conflagration with an act of legislature,

or stem a revolution by the words of quiet thinkers,

or hold religion static with a martingale and blinkers,

or stop the steady current of continuous creation,

or cork the effervescence of a rising generation,                 

or stop our zealous doctors from inventing new diseases,

...or keep a wife from doing just exactly what she pleases,

we are every bit as crazy, as I’ll prove to any jury

as those enterprising beavers when they dammed the big Missouri.

                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[YO! Beaver!]

Once a posse of ol’ beavers, in, like, engineerin’ fury

got to trippin’ that their “mission” was to dam the wide Missouri.

Under very righteous leaders they all chilled out in convention,

they were sprung up on the big plan that the other brothers mentioned.

They were skeezer hardwood biters, they were slammin’ timber topplers

‘cause they beavered down the willow trees, and laid out all the poplars.

They laid down the riff,                  (over)

they laid down the riff,

logging on a riffle–-like a pattern, like a plan

like a man with a plan--but the river it just ran.

They were beavers who were brilliant, they were Einstein, they were clever,

but the river paid them absolutely no regard whatever.

(Word:)

When you try to chill the surges of unchanging human nature,

or stop a house from burning with an act of legislature,

or turn a revolution by the words of quiet thinkers,

or keep religion harmless with a pair of horsey blinkers,

or stop the steady current of continuous creation,

or cork the effervescence of a rising generation, 

...or cork the effervescence of a rising generation,

…or cork the effervescence of a rising generation,             

or stop the peoples’ doctors from fighting new diseases,

...or keep ya twist from doing just exactly what she pleases,

we are just as wack, and skitzing, like I’ll prove to any jury

as those future-loser beavers when they dammed the big Missouri!