One drummer's drumbeat

He was a poet, this Minnesota senator so bold,

And long a politician before war got in his way.

What to do but march off alone into the dark and cold?

That acerbic wit fit his Irish heritage mold.

His words a sword, a mighty dragon he did slay.

And yet he was a poet and thus inclined to be bold.

Slushing through New Hampshire’s snow, he sold

Enough people to vote for the words he had no choice but to say.

Thank god he marched off alone into that dark winter’s cold.

Alone, recall, he faced LBJ; he Irish and so truth to power told,

Showing that the president had a heart, as well as feet, of clay...