Hymn to Old Hickory

Here is the latest (sixth) in Austin Diaz’s new series of satiric translations of Horace’s Odes.

With the president apparently not amused by subtle insinuations of filial intercourse and the disastrous leak of the last poem about Conway (does anything not leak in this Winter White House?), our bereaved classicist attempts to curry favor anew with a paean to Trump’s favorite president of old, Andrew Jackson.  This mirrors the internal logic of Horace’s own Odes.  (A more faithful translation of this poem can be found here.)

10

Hymn to Old Hickory

Andrew, our Scots-Irish scion, war hero,
who first laid low the ‘cultivated’ elites,
and taught the poles to trust the good populace,
            true patriots all,

we praise your watchful portrait eyes, your wild
coif, once red now green, the wild ways that brought
a smile to the people’s lips, but conster-
            nation to judges’

brows, weak on natives; chagrin to the corrupt,
who stole your first coronation, who called you
‘jackass’ but had to smile when you made it
           your new party’s own.

Despite our muddied feet, you led us voters,
into the hollowed halls to admire your
wealth; you saw the Central Bank as the red threat
           it was, laid it low

like the cowardly red coats at New Orleans.
Grandfather of the DAP, lead us back
to prosperity with our brand new tearless,
            peerless Strong Leader.  



See here for the collection of all translations so far.

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