The logging town’s main drag was once Planks supported on stilts above the mud- Flats where amongst the taverns and cat- Houses, drunks could be seen falling Through rotting boards or over the railings, While the upright citizenry kept voting In sheriffs who stood for whores galore And the inalienable rights of winos delirious To bite off the heads of snakes at a nickel A score offered by thrill-seeking urchins Who kept thirsting for more.
The loudspeakers keep The message of the liturgy Resounding throughout The village and even if They should want, it is hard For those outside the church To ignore. Such urgency!
But there’s more—
If the wind should blow Just right towards where You’re going about your work, With no effort at all you can Still hear the crystal-clear voice Of a lone shepherdess calling Her wayward flock home.