There was a young boy out in Vernal
Who thought summer jobs were infernal.
His dad down did clamp --
Said “Work or math camp!”
“I won’t have you round here diurnal.”
When faced with the decision to cut programs or raise cash
By adding further taxes, councils opt for balderdash.
Wringing hands and weeping, they put ashes on their clothes --
And then proceed to make the populace pay through the nose.
The only place where taxes never rise up to enslave
Is when you’re cold and buried in a cozy little grave.
In Salt Lake if you don’t show tact,
They throw you in jail -- that’s a fact.
Despite all your tears,
You’ll do twenty years --
They like to see ev’ry cell packed.
CULTURE CLASH AT A CHINESE-RUN PLANT IN OHIO
Glassmakers who work in Moraine
Do not like their Chinese domain.
They’re told to work fast
Or jobs will not last --
And they only get paid in chow mein.
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