Vive Le Troubadour!

Once upon a time a long time ago when kings would die

And the scepter passed to another’s hand,

The crown another’s head,

The herald would cry, “The king is dead!”


“Long live the king!”


Pete Seeger shall no longer sing.

The Troubadour is dead.

Who shall now take up his griot’s kora lute?

The Machine That “Surrounds Hate and Forces It to Surrender?”

That is the question.

As needful of an answer, in practical terms, as “building a boat to save the river.”

We have created a toxic environment of mass extinctions.

Is his rare breed another one to be added to the list?

Where have all the troubadours gone?

When will we ever learn?

The Troubadour is dead.

But, in a larger sense, he, unlike temporal kings,

Who wielded corporeal power,

Ceos today amassing, misusing, corporate power,

He whose spirit was so fused and interinfused with that of his music that they are one,

That troubadour cannot die,

Not as long as someone, sometime, somewhere, everywhere


His songs, our songs, of joy and sorrow,

Or hums them, even off-key, as they do the wash or clear the fields.

If he, pragmatically optimistic, is right about our chances as a species,

He will live,  speak, longer than Halliburton, Monsanto,

Or those other corporate (so-called by SCOTUS) persons.

Long after the BOA Pencil has crumbled to graphite

He “shall not perish from the earth.”

And when we, as all things must,

Finally fall and fail, our kind dust,

Who is not to say that some far star singer,

From Vega say,

May pluck from the aether his spirit, his troubadour’s song,

And (if heShe has a mouth and vocal chords)

Sing along?

The Troubadour is not dead.

Long Live the Troubadour!

        Pete Seeger May 3, 1919 – January 27, 2014

                                    Photo of Pete’s Machine is from Pete Seeger’s YouTube site