(for Joss Whedon)
She wasn’t born to beauty, and she wasn’t born to wealth,
And there’s many wouldn’t notice her at all,
But if those of us who love her should stand up to drink her health,
Best stand with us, or be ready for a brawl.
She’s our home, and she’s our mother; she’s our nation; she’s our friend,
And a time or two she’s almost been our tomb;
And she’ll play our freedom games with us until the bitter end,
While making sure we’ve lots of running room.
It’s a sacred symbiosis when you work a spacer’s deck,
Cause without the ship you’d soon be cold and blue,
But the greatest ship that ever sailed is just a drifting wreck
Without the little bugs inside her called her crew.
There’re forty thousand Fireflies out there drilling through the black,
Playing permutations of the transport game,
But there’s only one whose bulkheads feel like home against my back,
And “Serenity” is that lovely lady’s name.
Paul Haynie
1/18/2003