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They Boarded Up The Bliss House

by Kevin Salveson


They boarded up the bliss house
and cleaned out all the sin
the town whore found religion,
now she's a congressman.


The banker held the land rights,
the sage's face was wan.
The porter saw it coming
by sundown he was gone.


The sailor barked his orders,
the whore was on the take.
The nurse produced a bottle
then ran off with the rake.


The lawyer drew up the contracts,
a salesman produced the pen.
The waitress served them milk shakes
how frightened they were back then!


The rain came down in buckets;
the priest, inside alone:
hissing spit upon the snake pit,
and perched upon his throne.


There he spied the harbor,
the merchants and their piers.
The bosun held high his rifle
trained squarely on his fears.

The stranger posted warnings but
the sportsman he was game.
His friends were devout Christians,
but drunken men know no shame.

He crawled in through some loose boards
and fell upon his knees.
Seems that old familiar blisshouse
had scarred him indelibly.


He heard a chior of angels
(or this was so it seemed).
The policemen found him swinging
from a wooden beam.

The judge he tried to teach them
some sense of right and wrong.
The courthouse had its jester
who sang this little song.



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