The Sad Ballad of Rachel Corrie

With the second flotilla including the ship "Rachel Corrie" heading toward Israel perhaps it is time to remind ourselves exactly who and what Rachel Corrie was. One suspects she is representative of  many self proclaimed "peace activists."

So with apologies to Edwin Arlington Robinson:

The Sad Ballard of Rachel Corrie   

Whenever Rachel Corrie went to Gaza,
The Palestinian Arabs looked at her,
She was a young, left wing ideologue American,
And she stuck it to the Israelis like a prickly burr.

And she was always so damned sure of herself,
And she was always against the Israelis when she talked,
And she fluttered her own pulse and others' when she said "intifada,"
And she swaggered when she walked.

And she was really very pretty,
And she had a winning grin,
And she was buoyantly pro Arab,
But she was intellectually quite thin.

And she must have read Franz Fanon,
And Chomsky, Vidal, and Said,
For the gardens she was planting,
Consisted of only deadly weeds.

And she was weaned on lies and propaganda,
And had a mind as vacant as a blank face.
She convinced herself she knew everything,
As do those who canonize her,
And dream of taking her place.

And so on she worked, and created her conception,
So that murderous fanatics could construct tunnels to kill the Jews.
And on that miserable spring day,
While engaged in her soulless deception,
She met her worldly dues.

Michael Margolies

Note: An earlier version of this article mis-identified the author of the poem as "Edward" Arlington Robinsoin. AT regrets the error.
With the second flotilla including the ship "Rachel Corrie" heading toward Israel perhaps it is time to remind ourselves exactly who and what Rachel Corrie was. One suspects she is representative of  many self proclaimed "peace activists."

So with apologies to Edwin Arlington Robinson:

The Sad Ballard of Rachel Corrie   

Whenever Rachel Corrie went to Gaza,
The Palestinian Arabs looked at her,
She was a young, left wing ideologue American,
And she stuck it to the Israelis like a prickly burr.

And she was always so damned sure of herself,
And she was always against the Israelis when she talked,
And she fluttered her own pulse and others' when she said "intifada,"
And she swaggered when she walked.

And she was really very pretty,
And she had a winning grin,
And she was buoyantly pro Arab,
But she was intellectually quite thin.

And she must have read Franz Fanon,
And Chomsky, Vidal, and Said,
For the gardens she was planting,
Consisted of only deadly weeds.

And she was weaned on lies and propaganda,
And had a mind as vacant as a blank face.
She convinced herself she knew everything,
As do those who canonize her,
And dream of taking her place.

And so on she worked, and created her conception,
So that murderous fanatics could construct tunnels to kill the Jews.
And on that miserable spring day,
While engaged in her soulless deception,
She met her worldly dues.

Michael Margolies

Note: An earlier version of this article mis-identified the author of the poem as "Edward" Arlington Robinsoin. AT regrets the error.

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