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(22 September / London)

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O Hush Thee Space Baby after Sir Walter SCOTT Lullaby of an Infant Chief - Current Version 1058

O hush thee, space baby, thy sire was a Chimp,
his forebears diatom, amoeba or shrimp,
woods and glens that you see once lay under the sea,
all bear silent witness to Man's history.

Fear not evolution, for progress revolves
around its lost secrets till scientist solves
how toes, once extended prehensile, could free
Mankind for steps taken to end up with thee!

Soon brain implantations shall banish revolt,
dispensing with thoughts non-conformist with jolt
shocks of a nature to well guarantee
subservience set in tag RFID.

Yet brain stimulation through radio waves
may set the ball rolling for much mankind craves
as areas, dormant, awake for fresh spree
with flash telepathic advancing on key.

O hush thee, lord, lady, although dangers loom
humanity spins lines through bust and through boom,
Time's waters eternal flow, none should jump ship,
obey straight and narrow, shun Freudian slip.

Man's place in the food chain is evident now,
but sustained GNP may soon prove sacred cow,
life extension is threatening pensions and growth,
politicians soon perjure electoral oath.

Make hay while sun shines but remain in the shade,
for truth's at a discount, who calls spade a spade
incurs the swift wrath of the thought police squad
whose masterful matrix too often plays god.

Know privacy, freedoms, most must sacrifice
in the name of the fight for what’s Right versa vice,
and verses like this may to posterity
be unknown in a world were none dare disagree.

Basic principles topple and go by the board,
'and the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword'
by public concensus may melt at a glance,
creativity censored, small change left for chance.

'O, hush thee, my baby, take rest while I croon,
for ‘Progress’ comes early, lost Freedom too soon'
may with some liberal economy
be left standing at altar of prosperity.

Remember when troglodyte crawled from cold cave
the race for survival found few misbehave,
survival of fattest, not fittest, we see
where the few treat the many with asperity.

Climate warming is warning, ice melts, oceans rise,
this watershed cusp comes as no great surprise,
man must shed his self-shackles, a fresh entity
should spring to protect bio-diversity
on a planet that's passing point of no return.
Why is it, unique, we our own bridges burn?

The search for proactive solutions shall be
a sign, though endangered, that man’s sanity
can pull from potential catastrophe global
a future progressive, and generous, noble.
If this doesn’t happen then freezer for me,
in vat cryogenic for eternity!

O hush thee, space baby, the time will soon come
when limbs won’t be needed, don’t dare to look glum!
in many millenia still there will be
whatever one's status a personal flea.

(5 April 2013)

Submitted: Friday, April 05, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 10, 2013


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Poet's Notes about The Poem

As a general rule, the number in the title refers to the chronological order of the first version unless the poem was omitted from the original list and rediscovered. Revised versions retain the initial number.

Significantly revised 5 April 2013 for previous version see below
O hush thee, space baby, thy sire was a Chimp,
his forebear diatom, amoeba or shrimp,
woods and glens that you see once lay under the sea,
all bear silent witness to thy history.

Fear not evolution, for progress revolves
around its lost secrets ‘til scientist solves
how toes, once extended prehensile, could free
Mankind for steps taken to end up with thee!

Soon brain implantations shall banish revolt,
dispensing with thoughts non-conformist with jolt
shocks of a nature to well guarantee
subservience set in tag RFID.

Yet brain stimulation through radio waves
may set the ball rolling for much mankind craves
as areas, dormant, awake for fresh spree
with flash telepathic advancing on key.

Know privacy, freedoms, most must sacrifice
in the name of the fight for what’s Right versa vice,
and verses like this may to posterity
be unknown in a world were none dare disagree.

'O, hush thee, my baby, take rest while I croon,
for ‘Progress’ comes early, and Freedom too soon’
may with some liberal economy
be left standing at altar of ‘prosperity’.

Remember when troglodyte crawled from cold cave
the race for survival found few misbehave,
survival of fattest, not fittest, we see
where the few treat the many with asperity.

The climate is warning, the salt oceans rise,
this watershed cusp comes as no great surprise,
man must shed his self-shackles, a fresh entity
should spring to protect bio-diversity
to a planet whose passing point of no return,
why is it, unique, we our own bridges burn?
the search for solutions proactive will be
a sign, though endangered, that man’s sanity
can pull from potential catastrophe global
a future progressive, and generous, noble.
If this doesn’t happen then freezer for me,
a vat cryogenic 'til eternity!

O hush thee, my baby, the time will soon come
when limbs won’t be needed, though don’t you look glum!
in many millenia still there will be,
whatever your status, a personal flea.

(revised 14 July 2006 and 17 October 2008)
previous title O Hush Thee, My Baby for previous version see below

O Hush Thee, My Baby

O hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a Chimp,
his ancestor's mother, amoeba or shrimp,
the woods and the glens you see once under sea.
All bear silent witness to thy history.

Fear not evolution, for progress revolves
around its lost secrets ‘til scientist solves
why toes now extended, prehensile were, free,
and the steps man hass taken to end up with thee!

O hush thee, my baby, the time will soon come
when limbs won’t be needed, though don’t you look glum!
in many millenia still there will be,
whatever your stature, a personal flea.

(20 April 1990)

Lullaby of an Infant Chief

O hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a Knight,
Thy mother a lady both lovely and bright;
The woods and the glens from the tower which we see,
They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee.
O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows,
It calls but the warders that guard thy repose;
Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red,
Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.
O, hush thee, my baby, the time will soon come
When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum;
Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may,
For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.

Sir Walter Scott 1771_183

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