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Economist, Fayetteville, Arkansas

The twinkling stars were lining up

Across the darkened sky

When Kaspar settled in his chair

and thought of custard pie,

While Peterkin and Wilhelmine

Turned on the futurama screen.

 

They saw the spread of open fields

Around the soaring dome

That marks the spot on Jenkins Hill

Where Congress made its home;

And watched the golfers stalk their mounds

Beyond the tidy White House grounds.

 

“The gears are stuck,” cried Peterkin

“It’s showing us the past!”

“The screen is working,” Kaspar smiled,

“Its gears are made to last.

It shows how Washington will be

When planners go and men are free.”

 

“But Washington was growing big!”

The little children cried.

“It did grow fast for several years,”

Old Kaspar soon replied;

“When thousands came to operate

The swindles of the welfare state.”

 

“There was a time,” Old Kaspar sighed,

“When all of us were taught

That cures for every human ill

Were free to those who brought

Their votes and neighbors’ cash receipts

To clinics on these famous streets.”

 

“What came about,” asked Peterkin,

“To make the city shrink?”

“The boom was ended,” Kaspar said,

“When folks began to think

Of better ways to treat their ills

Than poultices of dollar bills.”

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