San Quentin I hate every inch of you You've cut me and you've scarred me through and through And I'll walk out a wiser, weaker man Mr. Congressman, why cant you understand?
San Quentin what good do you think you do? Do you think I'll be different when you're through? You bend my heart & mind and you warp my soul Your stone walls turn my blood a little cold
San Quentin may you rot and burn in hell May your walls fall and may I live to tell May all the world forget you ever stood And the whole world will regret you did no good
San Quentin you've been living hell to me.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning has a rather interesting take on patriotism (in respect to British patriotism, but organized around a comment on America). It is called
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
A Curse for a Nation.
PROLOGUE
I heard an angel speak last night,
And he said, "Write!-- Write a nation's curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea."
I faltered, taking up the word:
"Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother
"For I am bound by gratitude,
By love and blood, To brothers of mine across the sea, Who stretch out kindly hands to me."
"Therefore," the voice said, "shalt thou write
My curse tonight.
>From the summits of love a curse is driven,
As lightning from the tops of heaven."
"No so," I answered, "Evermore
My heart is sore For my own land's sins: for little feet Of children bleeding in the street:
"For parked-up honors that gainsay
The right of way: For almsgiving through a door that is, Not open enough for two friends to kiss:
"For love of freedom which abates
Beyond the Straits: For patriot virtue starved to vice on Self-praise, self-interest, and suspicion:
"For an oligarchic parliament,
And bribes well-meant. What curse another land assign, When heavy-souled for the sins of mine?"
"Therefore," the voice said, shalt thou write
My curse tonight. Because thou hast strength to see and hate A foul thing done *within* thy gate."
"Not so," I answered yet again,
"To curse choose men. For I, a woman, have only known How the heart melts, and the tears run down."
"Therefore," the voice said," shalt thou write
My curse tonight. Some women weep and curse, I say, (And no one marvels) night and day.
"And thou shalt take their part tonight,
Weep and write. A curse from the depths of womanhood Is very salt, and bitter, and good."
So thus I wrote, and mourned indeed,
What all may read. And thus as was enjoined on me, I send it over the Western Sea.
THE CURSE
I
Because ye have broken your own chain
With the strain Of brave men climbing a nation's height, Yet thence bear down with brand and thong On souls of others -- for this wrong
This is the curse. Write.
Because yourselves are standing straight
In the state Of Freedom's foremost acolyte, Yet keep calm footing all the time On writhing bond-slaves, for this crime
This is the curse. Write.
Because ye prosper in God's name,
What a claim To honor in the old world's sight, Yet do the fiend's work perfectly In strangling martyrs, -- for this lie
This is the curse. Write.
II Ye shall watch while kings conspire Round the people's smouldering fire,
And, warm for your part, Shall never dare -- O shame! To utter the thought into flame
Which burns at your heart.
This is the curse. Write.
Ye shall watch while nations strive With the bloodhounds, die or survive,
Drop faint from their jaws, Or throttle them backward to death: And only under your breath
Shall favor the cause.
This is the curse. Write.
Ye shall watch while strong men draw The nets of feudal law
To strangle the weak: And, counting the sin for for a sin, Your soul will be sadder within
Than the word he shall speak.
This is the curse. Write.
When good men are praying erect That Christ may avenge his elect,
And deliver the earth, The prayer in your ears, said low, Shall sound like the trump of a foe
That's driving you forth.
This is the curse. Write.
When wise men give you their praise, They shall pause in the heat of the phrase,
As if carried too far. When ye boast your own charters kept true, Ye shall blush; for the thing which ye do.
Derides what ye are.
This is the curse. Write.
When fools cast taunts at your gate, Your scorn ye shall somewhat abate
As ye look o'er the wall: For your conscience, tradition, and name Explode with a deadlier blame
Then the worst of them all.
This is the curse. Write.
Go, wherever ill deeds shall be done, Go, plant your flag in the sun
Besider the ill-doers! And recoil from clenching the curse Of God's witnessing Universe
With a curse of yours.
This is the curse. Write.