The Ballad of Charles "Oliver" Planck

 

Buzzards flew across the bay

The day that he was born;

Foghorns made Nantucket sound

Stranded and forlorn;

And destiny smiled --or did it yawn?--

On Charles "Oliver" Planck.

 

Restaurants and thoughts of them

Cast their net upon the child.

Many cloudless afternoons

Watched him sit with menus beguiled.

He opened doors with “this way please,”

And drove his father wild.

 

He soared to manhood and kept on board

A secret of intention:

Rest assured, Cape Cod will see

A place of my invention,

A friendly house for food and drink,

Receiving my strict attention.

 

Who knows who says how things turn out

And if desire applies?

The fighter plane that keeps to the hangar

Gleams toward the skies;

In his shadow his strafe-pocked brother,

But for the fact he flies.

 

Earthbound Oliver left his dream

In future generation hands.

Some say he hooked up with Thoreau

When the Journalist walked Cape sands.

“Where do we eat?” The latter asked.

The pair sauntered to fish stands,

Taverns, and light-house Keepers’ inns;

They were fed but not fed right.

Thoreau said Olivers could do better.

“Henry, some day I just might.”

“You’ll need years of experience first though…”

And he was part of the fog of the night.

 

The present day Ormon family

Beseech the spirit of Oliver Planck

To be the light with the ballad above.

They chose his personage not to flaunt

But to christen their restaurant.

Their’s and no other’s.

Were he to find it to his liking.

Were even Thoreau to judge it quietly striking,

They would have the Ormon family to thank

And their experience, knowledge, and love.