John Biszko: Rhode Island’s It for Me II
Sailboats on whitecaps turn and toss
Each mayor — his own tomato sauce
Taxes so high yet our bridges fall
Here! Getchya Pawsox tikitz!
Come one. Come all.
E’er true flies the elegant seagull
O’er the playground of the illegal
The foghorn wanes its comforting blast
Come join our burgeoning entitlement class.
In 1772 the Gaspee we did seize
Could I get a glazed crullah with that please?
Majestic pastures, vineyards, ‘ahh Pro Patria’
A futile search for a socialist utopia.
The proud golden anchor and 13 stahz
On sleeves of riot police outside Providence bahz
Regal waves and cliffs fit for a post cahd
Save us wind turbines! But not in my back yahd!
RI, RI, RI’s it for me.
Estate tax is fertile soil for my family tree
For her 2 months of summer, my golly, I’ll be boating
It’s easy to catch fish when they’re already floating.
Come over. It’s great. But no need to hurry.
We vote Dem every time. No change. No worry.
Someone owns a gun?! Good Lord, what to do?!
I’m sorry I said Lord. Did it offend you?
On these shores we hold forth a lively experiment
Alternative lifestyles. Blind progressive sentiment.
That a flourishing civil state may stand.
Have you tried Dunkin’s new clam coffee?
It’s not at all bland!