Postscript for the Statue of Liberty
Oh, say, you huddled masses, when you see
My golden shores, you must at once adjust:
Remove your greasy ball cap, beat the dust
From all your rags, and curb the “oui” and “si”
That mark you as a luckless refugee
From steaming isles much wilder than august,
Where starving men do battle for a crust
Of bread, and cringe before a pedigree.
Forget that dying land, my friend, forget
The strutting martinet, the cardboard shack,
The bloody coup d’etat, the crazed left winger;
I offer you instead a cigarette,
A mobile home, a lengthy Cadillac,
Madonna, Mickey Mouse and Jerry Springer.
Republished with permission of "Light," Vol.29, 2000