Once in a land called freedom’s pride
Where meadows are matters that must be fixed
And feelings of failings are loud and mixed
Lived good Sir Ralph, who would not ride.
He would not ride but faced hard ire,
Heaving his heavy sword and mace
Into the crags of the dragon’s face;
He kept abreast of the fire.
Now Richard the king kept still to see,
While his lackies swarmed like stinging flies
About the sweat of Sir Ralph’s eyes;
But he hacked at the dragon’s knee.
O sing Sir Ralph, you minstrel band,
A pure bold knight in a selfish age,
For the dragon who caused this good man’s rage
Was the best loved blight in thr land.
Ralph Nader and Richard Nixon.