The Corporate Rural Development Man

came to our little town this morn

in a car as large

as a garbage barge,

and began to thus tootle his horn:

"Howdy-do, you good people of Tinyville!

What a lovely li'l place y'got here.

I just wanted to say

all your fears please allay;

from this old boy you've nothing to fear."

He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves,

and he offered cigars to the guys.

"And now, let's get down

to improving your town,"

stated he, blinking pigulent eyes.

He gestured in scorn at the grassy town square

with it's statue of our local hero:

"Wasted space, you must see,

is sheer idiocy,

and adds up to a balance of zero."

But we'll build you a strip mall by June or July;

incidentally, I bought all the land."

He chortled with glee:

"Put your trust, folks, in me;

we'll develop this dump hand-in-hand!"

"Now, we're bulldozing out the old Applegate farm,

and the widow McPherson's, as well.

Got a quick-money slant

on a rendering plant,

and I've heard you get used to the smell."

He told us our theater would soon be torn down,

and a Burger King raised in its stead;

while the Michelin Man

would hawk tires on plan

once the church was demolished, he said.

But we like our town just as it is,

we protested; at which the developer roared:

"Do you think I would nix

all this progress, you hicks?!

Hell, the drawings are all on the board."

So saying, he tossed his cigar in the street

and he sauntered away to his car.

But I'm happy to state

he left town a bit late:

on a rail, dressed in feathers and tar.

LW