by David LaMotte
(a true story about events that occurred on May 26, 2007. © 2007 Lower Dryad Music)
The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to
be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
The men put on their uniforms and quickly took their
places
In white robes and those tall and pointed hoods that hid
their faces
Their feet all fell in rhythm as they started their
parade
They raised their fists into the air, they bellowed and
they brayed
They loved to stir the people up, they loved when they
were taunted
They didn’t mind the anger, that’s precisely what they
wanted
As they came around the corner, sure enough, the
people roared
They couldn’t quite believe their ears, it seemed to be
– support?
Had Knoxville finally seen the light, were people coming
‘round?
The men thought for a moment that they’d found their
kind of town
But then they turned their eyes to where the cheering
had its source
As one their faces soured as they saw the mighty force
The crowd had painted faces, and some had tacky clothes
Their hair and hats outrageous, each had a red foam nose
The clowns had come in numbers to enjoy the grand
parade
They danced and laughed that other clowns had come to
town that day
And then the marchers shouted, and the clowns all
strained to hear
Each one tuned in intently with a gloved hand to an ear
“White power!” screamed the marchers, and they raised
their fisted hands
The clowns leaned in and listened like they couldn’t
understand
Then one held up his finger and helped all the others
see
The point of all this yelling, and they joined right in
with glee
“White flour!” they all shouted and they felt inside
their clothes
They pulled out bags and tore them and huge clouds of
powder rose
They poured it on each other and they threw it in the
air
It got all over baggy clothes and multi-colored hair
All but just a few of them were joining in the jokes
You could almost see the marchers turning red beneath
white cloaks
They wanted to look scary, they wanted to look tough
One rushed right at the clowns in rage, and was hauled
away in cuffs
But the others chanted louder marching on around the
bend
The clowns all marched along with them supporting their
new friends
“White power!” came the marchers’ cry — they were not
amused
The clowns grew still and thoughtful; perhaps they’d
been confused?
They huddled and consulted, this bright and silly
crowd
They listened quite intently, then one said “I’ve got it
now!”
“White flowers!” screamed the happy clown and all the
rest joined in
The air was filled with flowers, and they laughed and
danced again
“Everyone loves flowers! And white’s a pretty sort!
I can’t think of a better cause for marchers to
support!”
Green flower stems went flying like small arrows from
bad archers
White petals covered everything, including the mad
marchers
And then a very tall clown called the others to
attention
He choked down all his chuckles, and said “Friends I
have to mention
That what with all the mirth and fun it’s sort of hard
to hear
But now I know the cause that these strange marchers
hold so dear
“Tight showers!” the clown blurted out, and hit his
head in wonder
He held up a camp shower and the others all got under
Or at least they tried to get beneath, they strained but
couldn’t quite
There wasn’t room for all of them, they pushed, but it
was tight
“White Power!” came their marchers’ cry, quite
carefully pronounced
The clowns consulted once again, then a woman clown
announced
“I’ve got it! I’m embarrassed that it took so long to
see
But what these marchers march for is a cause quite dear
to me!”
“Wife power!” she exclaimed and all the other clowns
joined in
They shook their heads and laughed at how mistaken they
had been
The women clowns were hoisted up on shoulders of the
others
Some pulled on wedding dresses, “Here’s to wives and
mothers!”
The men in robes were angry and they knew they’d been
defeated
They yelled a few more times and then they finally
retreated
And when they’d gone a black policeman turned to all the
clowns
And offered them an escort to the center of the town
The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to
be
In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee
People joined the new parade, the crowd stretched out
for miles
The clowns passed out more flowers and made everybody
smile
And what would be the lesson of that shiny southern
day?
Can we understand the message that the clowns sought to
convey?
Seems that when you’re fighting hatred, hatred’s not the
thing to use
So here’s to those who march on in their massive, silly
shoes
