Friday, April 24, 2015
post S. F. earthquake poem from 1906–– fun poem)
The Damnedest Finest Ruins
Put me somewhere west of East Street where there's nothin' left but dust,
Where the lads are all a hustlin' and where everything's gone bust,
Where the buildin's that are standin' sort of blink and blindly stare
At the damndest finest ruins ever gazed on anywhere.
Bully ruins - bricks and wall - through the night I've heard you call
Sort of sorry for each other cause you had to burn and fall.
From the Ferries to Van Ness you're a God-forsaken mess,
But the damndest finest ruins - nothin' more or nothin' less.
The strangers who come rubberin' and a huntin' souvenirs,
The fools they try to tell us it will take a million years
Before we can get started, so why don't we come and live
And build our homes and factories upon land they've got to give.
"Got to give"! why, on my soul, I would rather bore a hole
And live right in the ashes than even move to Oakland's mole,
If they'd all give me my pick of their buildin's proud and slick
In the damndest finest ruins still I'd rather be a brick!
- L. W. Harris
(After the San Francisco earthquake April 18, 1906)
