Ode to the Lady of Westminster who hast found need to respond to the call of our great leader in the city of Jefferson.
A tall and graceful figure,
Through rain and slush and mud
She would always roam;
Our Suzanne,
Showing thousands the joy
Of owning a fine city home.
But now with pistol and badge in hand,
She stands tall and fine,
Set to rid the world of crime;
Alas tho,
No more to roam,
Nor more to show a home.
My soul cries out from my aging body,
My God! What will become of it all?
The world seems hidden by a graying pall.
Has it all been punctured as if by a dart?
For after all,
Our strength has always been THE HART!
Her smile could make even the derelict glow,
Through her eyes the young see,
Not decay and bulging walls,
But rather,
220 wiring and freshly stripped wood,
A deep, dark luster in magnificent halls.
Oh people, do not your garments rend.
Our noble task has yet to end.
And, yes, our sister must other roads roam,
No more to travel through rain and mire,
For now,
She must challenge
The world of Camp and Jacobsmeyer.
Oh! See her astride her mounted policeperson-steed,
With saber and billy club held high,
Off she rides like white clouds fleecing,
To the challenge
She goes with a mighty cry of
“Up! Up! Team Policing!”
So, if we must, to the world we give her;
Knowing with pride that she still indeed lives here.
But still — Oh, alas!
Never more to roam,
Now to miss the job
Of bringing people to their new home.
From Cal Stuart or The Lament of an Aging Neighborhood Executive Director
Originally published in The Paper, April 1977.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1977_04.pdf, printed page(s) 4; PDF page(s) 4.
