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HAWKS & DOVES

And on the high plains, a fresh show-down did brew

And did boil into battle at creek Tippecanoe.

As two holy chiefs, Tecumseh and Prophet,

Did gather all tribes to stage a new onslaught.

Whose forces were met by one Henry Harrison,

Who took firm command of a local armed garrison,

In a fray which kicked off more bloody unrest,

And was blamed on the Brits by the people and press...

And those itching to fight, known as War Hawks,

Were fed up and flustered with the prospects for talks.

"An end", they did thunder, "to Britain's trespasses!"

-- Or else it was time to go kick them sharply.

Henry Clay was one hawk, so boisterous in manner,

Who beamed forth with great pride in the American banner.

And who felt that our nation must insist on respect

-- Or forever be prey to such harassing attack.

While those calmer in ilk, who did not drop their gloves,

Seemed a bit feathery too -- and were titled the Doves.

Whose prudence ran high, and yet close to the heart,

Since with war in the air, life can seem better apart.

So debate raged anew and with great agitation:

-- To engage in a feud or in conciliation?

Indeed, the question recurs; there's no bigger deal,

With lives in the balance of fortune's grim wheel.

And with native conflict now blamed on the Brits,

And the seas full of scoundrels boarding our ships,

Cries for war rang loud in Mister Madison's ears,

While his treaty with France had made it quite clear:

To fight with Old England was called for again,

And so Congress declared, and put the call out for men.

To add their own chapter in the land's growing story,

And serve with great pride in pursuit of new glory…