An Ode to Merrimount and ICW
March 3, 2009 · Updated 3:18 PM
We good citizens of Mercer Who Ville
Hurtle two and fro seeking a thrill
In our massive SUV’s, we drive as we please.
Carrying Danny and Logan And princess Cara
And the dog that might lick but sure can’t scare ya.
Spinning on tires each more massive than last year
One kid in Barnard, one in Bastyr
We drive to the store for imported beer
Listen to engine, hear it purr, as we don our
trench coats and pretty faux fur.
In Maseratis, Poseratis and lowered rice rockets
We speed along, eyes barely in sockets
In Beemer and Zmer, likkety peal
In hyper and diaper we weave thru the people
We to the store, they to the steeple.
Young and old, and teens I’m told
Who have a habit of driving, quite bold
With joggers and loggers and footloose walkers
And those on the phone, talk talk talk talkers!
We like our food fresh, please don’t fry it!
But now, I’m told, our roads need a diet.
Come with me now as we fly north
past 60th 50th and approaching 44th.
We round the corner, doing ’bout 74
Limbaugh on the radio – the boar!
As prescribed in single file
We rocket forward into denial.
Look out! There’s a carriage, a dog and a trike
All pushed along by an unemployed Mike
And 23 runners but none named Spike.
Too late! What a mess! And who is to blame?
The poor folks of Mercer Who Ville can’t afford a light,