Oh, my name is Paul Revere, and
I wonder what I’m doing here
Sitting with my latest teapot,
Getting famous? No, I think not.
I’d so like Revere to be
A name well-known to history,
Familiar in every sphere,
The vaunted name, Revere!
Oh, but will this silver urn,
Provide me with a bold return,
Of pages in the history book,
If only I could have a look,
And see the name Revere to be
A name that’s known to high degree,
Familiar as God and Lear,
That priceless name, Revere!
Silversmithing’s not a bad profession,
Making pretty trays and pots like this one here
But to make a far more grandiose impression,
You’ve got to persevere, Revere, persevere!
But what else have I got
Besides this nice but average pot?
I’ve got my faithful, trusty steed,
Who’s ready, if I ever need,
To race across the countryside,
And warn folks that a crimson tide
Approaches, and to overcome!
Now, where did that come from?
Oh, and if a major poet wrote
About that ride, in anecdote,
And gave its title my own name,
To keep Revere in lasting fame,
Or name a street, a town, a beach,
A set of pans–is that such a reach?
Familiar, to every ear!
The quaint old name, Revere!
©2012 Ajemian and Newcomb