There was a man in Our Town And Jimson was his name, Who cried, “Our civic government Is honeycombed with shame.”
He called us neighbors in and said, “By Graft we're overrun. Let's have a general cleaning up, As other towns have done.”
The citizens of Our Town Responded to the call; Beneath the banner of Reform We gathered one and all.
We sent away for men expert In hunting civic sin, To ask these practised gentlemen Just how we should begin.
The experts came to Our Town And told us how‘ twas done. “Begin with Gas and Traction, And half your fight is won.
Begin with Gas and Traction; The rest will follow soon.” We looked at one another And hummed a different tune.
Said Smith, “Saloons in Our Town Are palaces of shame.” Said Jones, “Police corruption Has hurt the town's fair name.”
Said Brown, “Our lawless children Pitch pennies as they please.” Now would it not be wiser To start Reform with these?
The men who came to Our Town Replied, “No haste with these; Begin with Gas — or Water — The roots of the disease.”
We looked at one another And hemmed and hawed a bit; Enthusiasm faded then From every single cit.
The men who came to Our Town Expressed a mild surprise, Then they too at each other Looked “with a wild surmise.”
Jimson had stock in Traction, And Jones had stock in Gas, And Smith and Brown in this and that, So — nothing came to pass.
The profligates of Our Town Pitch pennies as of yore; Police corruption flourishes As rankly as before,
Still are our gilded ginmills Foul palaces of shame. Reform is just as distant As when the wise men came.
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