In Honor of John Way

Silvery hairs on a wise old head
lying quietly, fist still raised
our leader, John Way, is dead
but we still living will sing his praise.
From birth he was strong as steel
fighting for the powerless and weary
countless lives with justice he did heal
listen now and hear his story;
I met John at the end of his life
he was old but not weak, still fighting the fight
I was mired in injustice and covered with strife
when I met him it was clear he was bright.
I turned to him for rescue from the mob
he reached for me though I was almost gone
John reared up in strength against the dogs
saving me though I was close to too far along.
I loved him for it and joined the crowd
he asked for nothing in return
I couldn't help but sing praises loud
watching effigies of our enemies burn.
John was a hero to the poor
a saint to the oppressed
he was never satisfied til those who had nothing had more
and if it was for good, not an opinion he repressed.
If I were to write the all good he did
it would take a paper far too long
he was humble and his good works he hid
so I doubt he would approve of an honorary song.
Know this though, you enemies of good
you who smile when preying on weakness
John’s memory we will remember as we should
and we’ll wack you til you confess.
Rest well Noble John
you have earned your paradise
we ever sing this song
while all good deeds are sufficed.