Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,
The sheep are in the meadow and the cows are in the corn;
Where is that boy who looks after the sheep?
Under the haystack; fast asleep.
As the “Comet” sped away across the blue-black sky, there came one in its wake; riding its bright streaming “tale” asking, “what time is it?” A true visionary, this one was the “Son of the Comet.” A voice crying out to us that “the alarm clock of life is ringing!” It’s time to wake up! It’s time to go to work! We’re running late! No time to hit the snooze button and get a few more minutes of sleep. It’s time to wake up! Let’s go to work! Let’s work for a better, more compassionate and caring society. Let’s go to work for peace and unity. Let’s go to work for equality and justice. It’s time to go to work! Time is winding up!”
My father (the Son of the Comet) wrote this poem dealing with the question:
“WHAT TIME IS IT?
Murder and rape have almost become common place.
Drugs and alcohol are no longer a disgrace.
It’s even hard to tell the women from the men
Popular names have replaced what used to be called “sin”.
Men and women laugh when they see you doing what’s right.
Please! Find my Watchman and seek from him-the hour of the night.
My, how time on eagle’s wings is fleeing;
Disaster on every hand we are meeting.
Day by day; pushing us closer to the grave;
But yet all the sins of Sodom we do dearly crave.
We need to turn back to God, and do what is right.
Watchman! Light the lamp and tell me; what is the hour of the night.
We live today as if time were our own.
Unaware of the fact that soon it’ll all be gone.
We think light of anyone who practices brother hood.
And, we just won’t do all of the things that we should.
War is still raging, and there’s no peace yet in sight.
Will someone shake my watchman and ask…What is the hour of the night?
Last night I dreamed of a city where man practiced brotherhood;
Where all men treated each other right, by doing that which is good;
Where peace, justice, and love like a river did flow.
And smiles, happiness and joy, on every face did show.
Alas, I awoke from my slumber to find there was still misery and strife.
So, I cried aloud to my Watchman and asked, what is the hour of the night?”
-Fletcher L. Brown (ca. 1974)
Next week Ron’s Time Tunnel: “It Ain’t Slick a Damn”