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,

The shame.

Geoff Spelman