Ethan Allen on his Deathbed

The old blasphemer was dying.
His physician knew that there was no hope
Of recovery short of a miracle
For a man who believed in none,
But as a Christian, he felt it his duty
To try to bring the sinner to Jesus.
The dying man had once been a hero.
He and his Green Mountain Boys
Had wrested Ticonderoga,
The most formidable fort on the continent,
From its surprised British garrison.

The doctor donned a look of concern
That he hoped would also convey
The compassion of a merciful God
As he entered the dying man's bedroom.
What a coup it would be to wrest his soul
From Satan's claws with a deathbed conversion.
What luster it would add to his own reputation;
The man who pulled Ethan Allen from darkness.

"General, I fear the Angels are waiting for you,"
He piously intoned, his hands clasped
In front of his belt buckle as if in prayer.

The old patriot glared up at him,
Then mustered up his remaining strength
And angrily retorted,

"Waiting are they?
Waiting are they?

Well, goddam 'em
Let 'em wait!"