’way.
Nine stitches saved Choc Charlie, or so they say .
One morning as he was shining his shoes in Georgia, I heard Daddy Hickman singing:
I’m going to the Nation, baby ,
Going to the Territory .
Says I’m going to the Nation.…
Going to the Territory …
like any lonesome sinner but making it sound like “Beulah Land,” puzzling me.
It haunts here and there; in and out .
Why don’t Revern Hickman open … They were all hicks; I told me then, that’s why I renounced them beyond all recovery. What a hickery-docket was Hick hock—the camera, Donelson; we’ve got to keep moving west. Hail to the great hickocracy. It hurts there. The waters of life. Thirst. Texas hots. Ladies and gentlemen, I swear, it was a strange adventure.
I met Mr. Rabbit
Down by the pea vine
And I asked him where he’s gwine
Well, he said, just kiss my b’hin’
And skipped on down the pea vine.…
Mr. Speaker, Mr. Speaker! I should like to call to the attention of this great body the insidious activities of those alien-minded groups who refuse the sacred obligations of becoming true Americans.… How here I reject them and out of my rejection rule them. They create their own darkness and in their embarrassment left all to chance my changed opportunity. It haunts hard in this moment.… Oh, they sweep around us with their foreign ways. Yes, and in the second and third generations they reject even these foreign but respectable traditional modes of their parents and become barbarians, maimed men; moral terrorists, winos, full of self-pity. Men filled only with the defeatist spirit of rejection. They become whiners and complainers, demanding the deification of their sloth. The soft touch. Nothing here in our fine, hard-won American tradition is good enough for them. Always it is some other way of life which wins them. It is the false promises of our enemies for which they thirst and hunger. Yes, and sabotage! Mr. Speaker, in their arrogance they would destroy our tender vines. And in their fury they would weaken the firm foundation of our way of life. In their malicious frenzy to evade responsibility they would destroy that which has given them shelter and substance, and the right to create themselves. Oh yes! Yes! These rootless ones would uproot us all! Consider the time-scene: When they watch our glorious flag passing on parade they greet it with an inward sneer. When we honor our fallen dead, they secretly applaud the marksmanship of our enemies. When we set forth to preserve our honor and the sanctity of our homes and the health of our customs they would cast into the smooth machinery of our national life their intractable and treacherous wooden shoes. Abuse, abuse! In the name of lawful dissent they seek our destruction. They would poison the spring of our unity. They would destroy the horses of our power. They would reduce our sacred diversity and dominate us! They would send the sapper of their hate to mine the defenses of our belief. They would pull down the protective walls of ourfortress. But leave us to the peaceful glories of this great land they will not!
Ah Bliss, Bliss, so you’ve come to this. And I believed …
Nay! Nay! They would sweep over us with their foreign ways. They would undermine us with their un-Christian doubt. They are a thorn in our flesh, a dagger in our back; a putrid offense in the nostrils of every true red-blooded American. And it is time that we defend ourselves. We have been asleep, Mr. Speaker, my fellow citizens; asleep in our dream of security! Asleep in our well-meaning, sportsmanlike way of wishing the other fellow well. Asleep in the false security of accepting all men of goodwill who would be free as men of honor. And, I’m sorry to say, we have not been vigilant enough in administering our heritage. Our stewardship has been indeed faulty, so the fault is our own. For while we’ve looked the other way these internal enemies have become, in the words of that great Irish poet,
Nine stitches saved Choc Charlie, or so they say .
One morning as he was shining his shoes in Georgia, I heard Daddy Hickman singing:
I’m going to the Nation, baby ,
Going to the Territory .
Says I’m going to the Nation.…
Going to the Territory …
like any lonesome sinner but making it sound like “Beulah Land,” puzzling me.
It haunts here and there; in and out .
Why don’t Revern Hickman open … They were all hicks; I told me then, that’s why I renounced them beyond all recovery. What a hickery-docket was Hick hock—the camera, Donelson; we’ve got to keep moving west. Hail to the great hickocracy. It hurts there. The waters of life. Thirst. Texas hots. Ladies and gentlemen, I swear, it was a strange adventure.
I met Mr. Rabbit
Down by the pea vine
And I asked him where he’s gwine
Well, he said, just kiss my b’hin’
And skipped on down the pea vine.…
Mr. Speaker, Mr. Speaker! I should like to call to the attention of this great body the insidious activities of those alien-minded groups who refuse the sacred obligations of becoming true Americans.… How here I reject them and out of my rejection rule them. They create their own darkness and in their embarrassment left all to chance my changed opportunity. It haunts hard in this moment.… Oh, they sweep around us with their foreign ways. Yes, and in the second and third generations they reject even these foreign but respectable traditional modes of their parents and become barbarians, maimed men; moral terrorists, winos, full of self-pity. Men filled only with the defeatist spirit of rejection. They become whiners and complainers, demanding the deification of their sloth. The soft touch. Nothing here in our fine, hard-won American tradition is good enough for them. Always it is some other way of life which wins them. It is the false promises of our enemies for which they thirst and hunger. Yes, and sabotage! Mr. Speaker, in their arrogance they would destroy our tender vines. And in their fury they would weaken the firm foundation of our way of life. In their malicious frenzy to evade responsibility they would destroy that which has given them shelter and substance, and the right to create themselves. Oh yes! Yes! These rootless ones would uproot us all! Consider the time-scene: When they watch our glorious flag passing on parade they greet it with an inward sneer. When we honor our fallen dead, they secretly applaud the marksmanship of our enemies. When we set forth to preserve our honor and the sanctity of our homes and the health of our customs they would cast into the smooth machinery of our national life their intractable and treacherous wooden shoes. Abuse, abuse! In the name of lawful dissent they seek our destruction. They would poison the spring of our unity. They would destroy the horses of our power. They would reduce our sacred diversity and dominate us! They would send the sapper of their hate to mine the defenses of our belief. They would pull down the protective walls of ourfortress. But leave us to the peaceful glories of this great land they will not!
Ah Bliss, Bliss, so you’ve come to this. And I believed …
Nay! Nay! They would sweep over us with their foreign ways. They would undermine us with their un-Christian doubt. They are a thorn in our flesh, a dagger in our back; a putrid offense in the nostrils of every true red-blooded American. And it is time that we defend ourselves. We have been asleep, Mr. Speaker, my fellow citizens; asleep in our dream of security! Asleep in our well-meaning, sportsmanlike way of wishing the other fellow well. Asleep in the false security of accepting all men of goodwill who would be free as men of honor. And, I’m sorry to say, we have not been vigilant enough in administering our heritage. Our stewardship has been indeed faulty, so the fault is our own. For while we’ve looked the other way these internal enemies have become, in the words of that great Irish poet,
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