We collectors never really OWN our historic coins, we are merely temporary custodians. I really liked that poem, thank you for sharing! Now I will go and look at my Ancient Greek Silver Coin, (460 B.C.), Macedonian Silver Tetradrachm (336 B.C.), my Roman Empire Silver Denarius (180 B.C.), my Biblical Copper Simpulum of Pontius Pilate from Jerusalem (29 A.D.), my Celtic Silver Stater, (634 A.D.) my Byzantine Empire Copper coin with Jesus Christ on it, (1078 A.D.), and my Edward I - London Silver coin (1272 A.D.), amongst others, and reflect on all they have to tell me.
Here’s my continued version: For many years I was passed around in my shining new form. And under the Georgians I remained immensely useful to my possessors. That is until one day, when a young man of maybe 20 attacked me mercilessly me with his knife and carved some letters onto me. “MH” they were. He gave my mauled body to a woman who treasured me and kept me around her neck, for many years until eventually, I was at last set free. I circulated merrily from hand to hand for many more years, but Britain was changing and I was soon too old and damaged. And was forgotten, left in some old attic for no one to see. When I was at last found once again, I had no use anymore, as in the reign of Queen Victoria, my head was the wrong Queen. I was now an antique and one last time exchanged, at an antique store where for many more years I stayed. I was at last bought by a merry old man, and by this point Kings ruled England once again. and I was placed among many other coins of my age, in a box where I was frequently admired by my owner. When I was lucky I would be handled and shown. But time passed by and the man passed on, and his son came to own me. But unlike his father who had shown me such love, the son had no interest in me. I was once again placed upon a store shelf, this time incased in plastic. But I was not here long, and soon had another owner. A passionate young man, who brought me to his home and freed me from my plastic prison. I was shown to many for several years until eventually I was once again placed into a box. And the young man who loved me soon grew into an old man, who cared little for me. Now I spend my days in a dark depressing wooden box. And am infrequently appreciated. But such is the life of a coin like me. All I can hope is that eventually I will be inherited, sold and maybe one day melted down once again and given new life. We can only hope.
Great video. It even mentions the recoinage of 1696 - 1698 in which mutilated and worn coin going back to Edward VI was taken in by the mint and melted down to make new coins. We could carry the poem on such as, "Anne came and went and George from Germany came in, I got more worn, but life was nice in the great peace of Hanoverian England, but then came war with France and in the pocket of a general I fell" I emerged after a voyage in America, sadly unwanted as I was a foreign coin, a loyalist carried me north away from Washington and I got more worn, falling into the ground one late Autumnal day as the war of 1812 enused., then it snowed and I was lost forever with the melt, falling under the soil and becoming forgotten, weeks, months, years and decades past. Finally I heard a beeping sound, then the sound of a metal prod and then seeing the sky, I saw the sun above and children with stranged wheel vehicles, carriages without horses and a amazed sounds "Oh wow, that is an old one", the world had changed so much since that fateful day in November 1814. I was taken into a home, placed in a wrapper of an unfamiliar plastic substance, and noticed a piece of paper with the words "June 1984" on it. I was left in a envelope and forgotten. Then I was pulled out after many more years and placed next to a large box with moving pictures and placed in a tight paper wrapper. Then placed into a dark deep box and on a belt, I was then in a sack and noticed myself going up through the clouds. Then I landed and ended in another box, the envelope was opened and I was placed in a plastic sleeve, more comfortable and not distorted, placed in book with shelves next to a coin 11 years older than me, from the time of evil King James and a coin 5 years younger than me, also of Anne. Overtime I realised the oldest coin in the book was older than my first time as Elizabeth and I met many coins of her era that looked like I once did and saw many more that were over 250 years younger than me - I saw another sheet of paper with numbers, it said November 2021 and a coin that showed a man called Charles III, in all this time we have had only one more Charles as king, it seems so much longer" My best piece of doggerel ever.
Very interesting. I had never heard that before today. Thank you for the adventure! Great history!
Very enjoyable cheers👍
Thought it was a great poem! Appreciate you taking the time to share.
We collectors never really OWN our historic coins, we are merely temporary custodians. I really liked that poem, thank you for sharing! Now I will go and look at my Ancient Greek Silver Coin, (460 B.C.), Macedonian Silver Tetradrachm (336 B.C.), my Roman Empire Silver Denarius (180 B.C.), my Biblical Copper Simpulum of Pontius Pilate from Jerusalem (29 A.D.), my Celtic Silver Stater, (634 A.D.) my Byzantine Empire Copper coin with Jesus Christ on it, (1078 A.D.), and my Edward I - London Silver coin (1272 A.D.), amongst others, and reflect on all they have to tell me.
Here’s my continued version:
For many years I was passed around in my shining new form. And under the Georgians I remained immensely useful to my possessors. That is until one day, when a young man of maybe 20 attacked me mercilessly me with his knife and carved some letters onto me. “MH” they were. He gave my mauled body to a woman who treasured me and kept me around her neck, for many years until eventually, I was at last set free. I circulated merrily from hand to hand for many more years, but Britain was changing and I was soon too old and damaged. And was forgotten, left in some old attic for no one to see. When I was at last found once again, I had no use anymore, as in the reign of Queen Victoria, my head was the wrong Queen. I was now an antique and one last time exchanged, at an antique store where for many more years I stayed. I was at last bought by a merry old man, and by this point Kings ruled England once again. and I was placed among many other coins of my age, in a box where I was frequently admired by my owner. When I was lucky I would be handled and shown. But time passed by and the man passed on, and his son came to own me. But unlike his father who had shown me such love, the son had no interest in me. I was once again placed upon a store shelf, this time incased in plastic. But I was not here long, and soon had another owner. A passionate young man, who brought me to his home and freed me from my plastic prison. I was shown to many for several years until eventually I was once again placed into a box. And the young man who loved me soon grew into an old man, who cared little for me. Now I spend my days in a dark depressing wooden box. And am infrequently appreciated. But such is the life of a coin like me. All I can hope is that eventually I will be inherited, sold and maybe one day melted down once again and given new life. We can only hope.
A different direction, Ethan, but interesting and enjoyable
Nice video
Thank you!
Great video. It even mentions the recoinage of 1696 - 1698 in which mutilated and worn coin going back to Edward VI was taken in by the mint and melted down to make new coins. We could carry the poem on such as, "Anne came and went and George from Germany came in, I got more worn, but life was nice in the great peace of Hanoverian England, but then came war with France and in the pocket of a general I fell" I emerged after a voyage in America, sadly unwanted as I was a foreign coin, a loyalist carried me north away from Washington and I got more worn, falling into the ground one late Autumnal day as the war of 1812 enused., then it snowed and I was lost forever with the melt, falling under the soil and becoming forgotten, weeks, months, years and decades past. Finally I heard a beeping sound, then the sound of a metal prod and then seeing the sky, I saw the sun above and children with stranged wheel vehicles, carriages without horses and a amazed sounds "Oh wow, that is an old one", the world had changed so much since that fateful day in November 1814. I was taken into a home, placed in a wrapper of an unfamiliar plastic substance, and noticed a piece of paper with the words "June 1984" on it. I was left in a envelope and forgotten. Then I was pulled out after many more years and placed next to a large box with moving pictures and placed in a tight paper wrapper. Then placed into a dark deep box and on a belt, I was then in a sack and noticed myself going up through the clouds. Then I landed and ended in another box, the envelope was opened and I was placed in a plastic sleeve, more comfortable and not distorted, placed in book with shelves next to a coin 11 years older than me, from the time of evil King James and a coin 5 years younger than me, also of Anne. Overtime I realised the oldest coin in the book was older than my first time as Elizabeth and I met many coins of her era that looked like I once did and saw many more that were over 250 years younger than me - I saw another sheet of paper with numbers, it said November 2021 and a coin that showed a man called Charles III, in all this time we have had only one more Charles as king, it seems so much longer" My best piece of doggerel ever.
Blame that Isaac Newton, a sometime dabbler in the sciences, for being melted down.