A government job,
For all till we're dead -
With City, the Bourough,
The State, or the Fed.
Away with canneries -
Sell fish rights to Japs,
No drifters, setnetters.
No seiners or traps.
Goodbye to homesteaders -
They spoil conservation.
Just government parks
And planned recreation.
No gold pans or tailings,
Mosquitos, sweat, toil.
White shirts and brief cases -
We'll all live on oil.
To experts and planners
For every solution
Advice on neuroses,
Traffic, pollution.
We'll live in domed cities
Controlled and hygienic.
Subzero is outside.
The snow: merely scenic
O Progress Almighty,
We bow with a sigh
But allow us one tear
For days gone by.
Donnis Thompson