I Was Thinking Most of You

One thing my mother always taught me was to love my enemies. Loving your enemies was something our preacher alluded to when giving a sermon based on John 15:9-17, which was really about loving your friends, but never mind that.

Mother also taught me that you should love your enemies, but don't stick around when they are out to get you.

Dad backed her up but suggested I get at least one punch in by advising me that "he who fights and runs away lives to fight another day."  (Demosthenes 338 B.C.)

Since I am unable to thank her in person for the advice that has carried me thus far (with only minor wounds to show for trying to follow Dad's advice), I will offer up the bastardized version of "Just Before the Battle, Mother" I learned back in grade school.

I remember the look on her face when I sang this,

Just before the battle, mither,

I weren't thinking t'all of you. 

When I heard the Rebels coming,

To the rear I quickly flew,

Where the shirkers and the cowards,

Thinking of their homes and wives

'Twas not the Rebs we feared, dear mother,

But our own dear precious lives.

CHORUS

Farewell, mither, for you'll never,

See my name among the slain,

For if I can only skedaddle,

Dear mither, 

I'll come home again.

I hear the bugle sounding, mother,

My soul ain't eager for the fray.

I guess I'll hide behind some cover

And then I should be okay.

Discretion's the better part of valour,

At least that's what I've heard you say,

And he who loves his life dear mother,

Won't fight if he can run away.

CHORUS

Fare well, mither, for you'll never,

See my name among the slain,

For if I can only skedaddle,

Dear mither, 

I'll come home again.

Thanks Mom!