Weekend Civil Warrior

Another piece of literary genius from our own Pat "The Hat" McWilliams. Enjoy . . .

For the past 25 years I've been a member of an acting troupe, performing Old West gunfights and comedy skits. I've had occasion to meet and occasionally participate with Civil War reenactors, Renaissance Festival sword fighters, WWII reenactors, Mountain Men, and other fans of Living History. Many of these people spend every weekend in a different century or millenium, one weekend playing 19th Century minstrel songs, the next portraying a soldier on D-Day. To these dedicated people, many of whom are also collectors, hint, hint, I dedicate this little song. A friend who does Old West, Mountain Man, and WWII gave me the challenge. I based the lyrics on his experience and that of several other reenactors I know. If you've ever been in the hobby or had a spouse who didn't quite share your level of enthusiasm, you'll recognize yourself or a friend. Feel free to sing it around the campfire. Feel free to pay me royalties if you record it or perform it for pay.

I'm a weekend Civil Warrior
A part time Mountain Man
Jousting at the Renfest
Playing in a minstrel band

Last week I died at Waterloo
Tomorrow, on Saipan
When my M-16 gets here
I'll die in Vietnam

My clothing is authentic
Right down to the very last stitch
But I'm not completely satisfied
Until it starts to itch

I've got frock coats, leather leggings
A kilt and cavalry boots
The only garments I don't own
Are 21st century suits

Five days a week it's innersprings
On comfort I insist
But a weekend without rain and mud
Leaves me feeling something's missed

See, it's not just playing cowboy
This is Living History
To show the little children
The way things used to be

When men would drink and men would fight
And someone would get shot
In the hundred years from then till now
Things haven't changed a lot

Such as each camp needs a campfire
And so I rub a stick
Then when the tourists turn their heads
I grab my trusty Bic

No, we're not neo-Nazis
We're not the KKK
And though we share a sleeping bag
That doesn't make us gay

My life is so historical
As my wife says to me
"I catch you buying one more sword,
and you'll be 'history'"

I turned and asked her, "Honey,
How many men d'you know
Who can hammer out their own horseshoes
And like to cook and sew?

Besides, this reenacting
Is something we can share
You get to go for three whole days
And not have to wash your hair

I bought you that tight corset
A hoop skirt and a gown
And a folding cot so you won't
Have to sleep on the cold, damp ground

The kids love running barefoot
And they don't seem to mind
Stepping in the residue
The horses leave behind

I have a big announcement
I know you'll think it's grand
I just bought a covered wagon
Traded in our minivan

We're going to leave the suburbs
For a cabin in the woods....

"BONK!!!"

I see you like your Christmas skillet
And, dang, you're aim is good!

(pause)

We'll, I had to sell my cannon
To pay the lawyer bill
And the judge took my revolver
When he heard that blanks can kill

I get the kids one week each month
And I bring them to the zoo
'cause I'm not allowed to take them
Anywhere near World War Two

For years it's been my hobby
Recreating war and strife
Now I'm stuck here in reality
Reenacting my own life!

Patrick McWilliams