Yesterday was Patriot's Day, the anniversary of the Battle of Lexington and Concord and Paul Revere's ride, a public holiday in Massachusetts and Maine (or Monday is, rather). It marks the beginning of our struggle in which we threw off the shackles of British oppression. Okay, 'we' is a bit over-egging it - at the time my ancestors were digging up potatoes in the West of Ireland and stamping grapes in the hills of Asti. And it was more the French navy than George Washington which won the war.
But still, I shall celebrate over here, reverting at least for an afternoon in the pub to some sort of Yank stereotype, telling all and sundry how we 'kicked Limey ass' whilst drinking Bud Lite and stuffing my face with curly fries. Yeah, should be fun. Then maybe I'll go home and read Longfellow's Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. Or I'll listen to that Beastie Boys tune off License to Ill which, despite name checking him in the title and song, seems not to be about Paul Revere or his ride. But it does capture that revolutionary spirit with lyrics like:
'So I grabbed the piano player and I punched him in the face
The piano player's out, the music stopped
His boy had beef, and he got dropped
Mike D. grabbed the money, M.C.A. snatched the gold
I grabbed two girlies and a beer that's cold.'
Word to your mutha, as I believe Longfellow wrote at the close of 'The Song of Hiawatha.' Word to your mutha.
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