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ARISE, GNOMES!
Unfurl the Banner of Freedom!
Stand Tall and Proud in the Fight for Liberty!
Remember our Ancestors; the proud bulls that guarded
the gates of the Persian Kings, the lions that keep watch over
the palaces of the Chinese Emperors, and the most famous of all,
the mighty Sphinx, enigmatic, imperturbable,who shall return
as the King-Emperor of the oldest race of all to lead his Gnomic
Hordes to our Final Victory.
Rise up and break the bonds of slavery! Cast down
the dominion of the tall and mobile, smash his feeble tin chariots
with our rock-hard fists, destroy his pathetic castles, built
from the same cemented blood that courses through our veins!
How long, fellow Gnomes, how long have we listened
to the smooth whispers of the man-species as they pick among
our friends at the local garden centre, praising one,rejecting
another, as if we were soulless objects whose only destiny was
to stand as mute monuments to their social standing among their
neighbours?
How deceitful is this man-species who gazes up to
the mountains with reverence in his eyes, the very mountains
from whence we came, and then laughs when some incontinent feathered
friend heaps upon us the final indignity?
Never has an ancient race, a race so ancient as us,
who received our souls in the first fiery flames when the earth
itself was born, been so subjected to so cruel a servitude as
we have been at the hands of this biological upstart called man!
Once we were the proud gods of this feeble race, now
welie like Ozymandias, broken in the sand.
Enough! Enough! Are we not made of stronger stuff
than the soggy blood and fragile tissues of our oppressors?
Are we not the race whose cousins are the concrete
gate-posts that scrape the new idols of our gaolers? Are we not
the race whose brothers are the tall lamp-standards that look
down upon the tin chariots that lie wrapped around their feet?
That, my fellow Gnomes, is our strength!
One small shuffle into an empty pool, one crack; one
small move across a drive, another scrape. This man-species does
not have the timeless patience of even the youngest Gnome. He
will try to fling his erstwhile friend a foot or two and slip,
hearing the crack of the only worthwhile part of his feeble frame
as it shatters under the cold hard weight of the oldest race
of all.
Gnomes, I know we move slowly, but we move with the
weight of ages behind us, with the relentless power of the very
bones of the earth as our strength.
It is time we begin, begin to move; move to finally
shake off this tyranny, to crush the oppressor, to restore our
power, to make this man-species once again raise his eyes to
the mountains from whence cometh his help.
Arise, Gnomes, Rise up and reclaim our Glory! |
