The Boneyard
On the thirteenth day of the seventh month
Big Max came into town,
He came with a clutch of plans, he said,
We'd be ‘mad to turn him down! '
He walked right into the council
And he huddled up with the mayor,
The mayor could only see dollar signs
As he sat him down in his chair!
We're just a common old country town,
There's not much happens here,
The town grew up around farmers,
Pioneers of yesteryear!
There's shops and government offices,
A bank and a couple of pubs,
And the highlight of the weekend whirl
Is a night at the social clubs!
We also have two cemeteries,
The ‘Old' one and the ‘New',
There's not been a burial in the Old
Since 1852,
It sits right there, at the edge of town,
All weeds and overgrown,
A bit of an eyesore, tell the truth,
While the New is nicely mown!
The news went round like a forest fire,
Big Max had bought the Old,
He wanted to build a Burger joint
And a Pizza Bar all told,
And then the parking, fifty cars
Should take up all the ground,
Where the bones of our pioneers had lain,
The founders of the town!
The moans and mutterings grew apace,
The mayor was brought to book,
How dare he sell off the hallowed ground?
This Max might be a crook!
The council went in a huddle
And approved the mayor's plan,
They quoted some ancient ordinance
While the people shouted: ‘Scam! '
But then the heavy equipment came
The dozers, trucks and rigs,
With men they hired from the city
To compound his dirty tricks,
While Max looked on, a complacent smile
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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