Come, stranger band

 O Come Stranger Band

john clare 

I hired a band of strangers

To rife through my things

With strict instructions

To spare nothing.

They began with the tools 

Rakes, shovels, hoes

It all must go!

But I slipped in

And hid the dago

And the post holes

The Porter Cable

With a cord frayed;

They were dear to me

They were my daddy's.

And then the books 

They all must go!

The novels, the letters

The romance

But I snuck in

To make hidden stacks

Of poetry

Of love letters

Old commentaries 

John Wesley's journals

For they were dear to me

They long saved my sanity.

And then the bikes and boats

They all must go!

The Old Town, Mohawk,

Basso and Treks

Take them quickly!

But I loaded them

And hid the flotilla 

Along the upper Suwannee

The peloton along the trail

covered in palmetto.

And then the cameras and

Photographs 

They all must go!

The Nikons, the Canons

The Yashica, the color 

And the monochrome

Burn them! And so they did

For I figured, they were only

Loved by me.

I did sneak in the little Canon.

What began as seven meaningless piles

By night mysteriously shrank

And all was as it was before.

I paid the band of strangers 

With amended instructions to return

When I am cold and stiff

And all the stuff they could burn

But please, go up to the Suwannee and cut my flotilla adrift.