Dragging Fanny

for Fanny J. Crosby (1820-1915) 

Her last hymn in the book—and they’re dragging it.
Behold, her royal army’s old. Band of stragglers,
banners furled, tired voices buckling the pews. 

Say what you will about Fanny 
with her military metaphors 
and her pentecostal zeal. 
She rode like a Valkyrie 
through the placid 
field of male 
menopausal 
music 
we call 
The Songs ofZion. 
She put her ass on the line. 

Victory, victory, through him 
that redeemed us. Victory, victory 
through Jesus Christ, our Lord! 
Victory, victory, victory . . . 

The song’s a deathmarch now. 
She didn’t know the foe 
advancing would stab 
her with her own 
baton there on 
the field 
of battle. No knife, no sword could cut like this. 

She’d rock ‘n roll her grave to save 
“A Royal Army” from this drag-ass beat.