THE BOSTON MOLASSACRE
by Tim Torkildson
PROLOGUE
When Adam and his lady Eve were exiled from the Garden,
They found their appetite for food degenerate and harden.
Before their hasty exit they had lived on nuts and fruit,
On berries ripe and lettuce leaves and pallid bamboo shoot.
But now, as all around them animals did gnash and rob,
Their thoughts turned towards a fire with some tasty sis kabob.
Their roasted meat and toasted grain and apples baked in ash
Were salted with their very sweat, and tears perhaps did splash.
Those first few meals away from Home, without Divine suggestion,
Were probably bumfuzzled and invited indigestion.
As the years spilled over, Adam and his lady Eve
Learned, no doubt, a tasty meal precisely to achieve.
I guess the angels told them, among other sacred stuff,
How to marinate the meat and make it much less tough.
(Those who claim the couple never ate a piece of meat
Are full of prime bologna – prime bologna, I repeat!)
Ev'ry meal preceded by a simple, humble prayer.
Watching Cain and Abel grow, with joy and some despair.
The boys had flocks and orchards -- and I guess it's only right
For me to say they started the original food fight.
Yes, food became a staple of the strife that was to follow;
Either you were starving or had plenty you could swallow.
The earth was full of hunger, and of startling excess;
Murder for a loaf of bread . . . or something even less.
Bitterness was balanced by the constant honey bee;
Then by Gupta farmers who mixed sugar with their ghee.
Sugar cane spread 'cross the map, from East to Carib West.
Plantation owners sat at ease – their slaves could never rest.
Boiling, boiling; paddles stirred the cane juice down to crystal.
Toiling, toiling; masters bade them work with whip and pistol.
Black hands made the sugar white; 'tis written history –
All so English spinsters could have something sweet for tea.
What was left was thick and dark, which now we call molasses.
Used to brew up rummy drinks in brightly colored glasses.
Indentured servants replaced slave; the diff'rence is not massive.
The harvest was quite punishing, the workers remained passive.
Tons of black molasses on to ships were put aboard,
Sent to Boston Harbor and in vats right quickly stored.
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