Marion Montgomery says this Yankee ‘holiday’ is full of fakery:
A Funeral Chant
There is no family ritual in the blue November morning
No family pig scraped white, steaming in the blue air
No scalding vat choked with sogged bristles
There is no sacrificial pig suspended in the blue November morning, snout down
No tub receiving the pink-blooming, steaming entrails, the steady drip of the dead blood under the grandfather knife
There is no sacramental supper of the first flesh of the sacrificial pig
No hospitable liver steaming on the evening table
Nor white flesh bubbling on the fire to render the essential summer
Now, too, is the clear cellophane season of the year, where impersonally the family executive in slacks
Buys the impersonal pink ham and the rain-clear demijohn of synthetic fat under hospital lamps
--Dry Lightning, Lincoln, Univ. of Nebraska Press, 1960, p. 37
Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!
Anathema to the Union!