Sing, people, of adventure and strife,
Of one man making his way in the world,
Of learning ways to escape poverty,
And finding ways to pursue happiness.
The name he bore was Erle Franklinson,
Born out of native land–America,
He finally returned by way of sea,
To set his foot upon his mother land.
He gazed into the sky with ecstasy,
Rejoicing in the life he used to hate
While relishing the smell of Georgia’s shore.
The city and its sounds surrounded him,
Now telling him of opportunity,
And wealth and love and everything he’d dreamed.
He spent the night upon a creaky bed
With leaking roof and ants upon the ground,
But care for this was not upon his mind.
His heart instead was full of eagerness,
Adventure, fear, and lust for living well.
Morning came and when it did he woke
And went amongst the town to make his way.
But this, his plan of living soon was foiled.
Walking down the street he felt a hand,
A grip of violent strength upon his arm,
A hold upon his body and his soul.
Alas, he had jumped ship illegally.
He trudged back up the walk into the ship.
“For once I had my chance, but now I’ve failed.
The brand new life before me in the States,
Killed by bureaucracy and stickler law.
I know that I deserve the right to live
And work wherever in the world I please,
But never in my life have I perceived
Justice fulfill her office for mankind,”
Bewailing to himself while looking back,
Upon the free and happy people there,
Working, loving, living at their whim,
While he could only watch with jealousy.
His journey was not over, that he knew,
The hope within was still a driving force,
Prevailing through the dire circumstance,
He will one day be living at his whim!
He turned away with steel within his soul,
To find himself the object of a gaze.
The man whose eyes surveyed our Erle’s act,
Asked him the reason for the steely face.
Earl replied with introspective thought,
“I’m more a man than how I’ve had to live.
I do know this: that I will one day leave
My life of limitations and bound’ries,
In order to fulfill my lofty dreams.”
Focused now, directed in his rage,
He continued his long, sad narrative.
“My father was a dirty criminal
Whose life was marked by all the pain he caused,
With all his thieving schemes and ruthless lies.
He robbed a dozen banks and then he fled,
Abandoning his wife and all their kids.
He like a coward left the States behind,
With him he took the cash and nothing else,
To thus begin again in Honduras.
It’s his fault I am in this dreadful state.
His woman birthed me in a dirty hut,
And raised me with the other filthy brats.
We lived upon the island off the coast
Of Honduras, that nation of the poor.
Only on the island could I roam,
Trapped by poverty and lack of means.
I was the only redhead in the bunch
Of brown skinned, black haired children in the town.
A puzzling spectacle to rich tourists,
They supposed that I had been kidnapped,
And tried to take me back to find my home.
Oh, how I wish that I had gone with them!
Preventing early on the toilsome strife
Of getting to my goal myself alone.”
The listener made a move as if to speak,
But Erle in his passion carried on,
“Before you judge or question I will say,
My story is a long and lonesome tale,
For parenting and nurture, it was rare,
But on my own instead within me grew,
A thirst for more of life and liberty,
And I determined then and there to do
All it took to leave the scum behind.
You’re likely wond’ring where the riches went,
The stolen riches hoisted from the banks.
My father squandered all on who knows what,
Before I grew enough to understand
The manner in which money passes hands.”
Here the tale was roughly interrupted
By he who calls the crew to man their posts.
After the toilsome break in narrative,
The man with ears to hear sought Erle again,
And Erle again began his lonely tale.
“The point at which I realized my goal,
I also learned the means to get me there.
I chanced upon a stranger in the street
One day while causing mischief as a boy.
He said to me, ‘The only way to win,
The only way to prosper and live well,
Is through the education of the mind.
Learn to use that tool and you’ll succeed.’
I was a child before, but since a man,
Filled with hope and purpose and a plan.
I quit my leanings towards the fruitless play,
And worked with focus on the end in mind.
Working my way, I made it through my school,
Then hatched a plan to reach America.
Freedom became attainable that day
When I could use the resource of my mind.
I plotted and I schemed and realized
That I could get a job aboard a ship,
Vessels of trade were always needing men.
The money I was paid was not the draw,
Instead it was the hope of being free,
Escaping poverty in Honduras.
So that is why I’m here today, my friend,
Aboard the vessel I both love and hate,
It’s both my way to freedom and a cage,
It brought me closer, but I’m still so far,
From living in the land that I desire.
You saw me forced back up into the ship
Entrapped again with freedom, oh so close.
I never will forget about my quest,
To find my home of future happiness.
I’ll try again until my wish prevails,
There’s nothing that can stop me in the world.”
The ending of his narrative commenced,
The story yet unfinished took a pause.
The listener sympathized and yet he saw,
A bitterness that chilled him to the core.
He said, “My friend, your tale, it moved me much,
But I believe that you will find it hard,
To find what you desire anywhere.
Even America is imperfect,
Work and toil are burdens everywhere.
You should find contentment in the fact,
That food’s within our reach and shelter too,
And other men with whom we can converse,
Building ties and strong camaraderie.
Right here is happiness if you allow
Yourself to see it right before your nose.”
Then Erle replied with skepticism strong,
That no one could be truly happy here,
“You’re lying to yourself, my humble man.”
Dismissing him as crippled in the heart,
He left, to by himself complete his plan.
Eventually, in Georgia’s port once more,
He tried again to make it onto shore.
Again he found himself on freedom’s land,
And this time he succeeded and remained
Rooted with his feet upon the ground,
Never again to leave the place for sea.
As yet without a home where he belonged,
Triumphantly he looked around the town,
Saying to himself that this was it,
He’d find his way and prosper, finally.
He found employment in a factory
Which made and manufactured paper goods,
His job was minor and low in the ranks,
But hard work and his determination
He knew would earn promotions soon enough.
Here he had the chance for betterment,
And took it, looking only to the top.
His resourcefulness and brilliance soon achieved
The highest job within that paper plant.
He almost now was living at his whim!
The happy thriving freedom now was his,
Now more a man and more American.
For Earl however that was not enough,
There’s more to life than merely work and rent.
He had a job but now he had a need
For something else to make his life complete.
Living alone and working by himself
With money but no friends or love in life,
He pondered on the realm of businessmen.
Still not content, not happy, as he’d wished,
He now must conquer in another way,
To make the home he longed for every day.
He saw her and at once he knew that love
Was what he needed now to make his home.
He said to his companion, “Who is she?
I’ve seen her only once, and yet I feel
Already that she will one day be mine.”
Needing no answer or encouragement,
His strong and restless passion drove him on.
Her name was Grace, and grace the girl possessed,
Her beauty shone like no one of her kind.
She spoke and all around were captivated,
The movement of her form was smooth and light,
Her hair was auburn, flowing ‘round her face,
Her eyes of brown expressed her every thought,
Enhancing her enlivened countenance.
Earl sauntered to her side and made his move,
Full of manly confidence and bold.
He spoke to her of love and future hope,
With words inspired by passion and desire.
Entranced with everything he said and did,
By his courageous spirit captivated.
They married happily not long after,
And lived the young, poor lovers’ life.
Supporting two was worth the cost for Erle,
But still he strove to have the most in life,
Thinking still that he could have it all.
They moved from Georgia to another state,
A smaller town and house in Oklahoma,
To build the home that Erle had foreseen.
Children were added in a space of time,
His wife, the lovely Grace now mother, too.
The portrait of the family looked complete,
The home Erle had desired he finally had,
But dreams made real do often disappoint.
He loved his wife, his kids, his little home,
But happiness in full was not to be,
For families require work and toil and strife,
No less than his former lonely life.
Forced to work now as well as then,
He could not even now live at his whim.
The lofty dream he had was now complete,
But he found that striving never ceased.
He thought back to the day when he in youth
Was talking to the listener on the ship.
He realized now the wisdom in his words.
Perfection in this life is never found,
Not even in the great America.
Though liberty and love are good and true,
Worth striving for and fighting to attain,
Contentment is where happiness resides,
Though all the fence-posts may not be aligned.
