The Great Quake

Oh, down in their dirty dens,

With their whores and their ale,

They laughed at their wickedness,

They made their own jail.



Yes, down in their foul dens,

The tower they spurned.

They shivered in the darkness,

But come mornin’ they’d burn.



Oh, the brothels came down,

And the flophouses burned,

The wicked cried out,

But the tower stood firm.

Fly from evil, Son!

Fly from evil!



For the earth it did shake,

And the wicked they trembled,

While inside the clocktower,

God’s brethren assembled.



Oh, the brothels fell down,

And the alehouses burned,

The wicked cried out,

But the tower stood firm.

Fly from evil, Son!

Fly from evil!



As the flames they did spread,

And false idols burned down,

We were safe in our clocktower,

The heart of our town.



Yes, those brothels came down,

And the flophouses burned,

The wicked cried out,

But the tower stood firm.

Fly from evil, Son!

Fly from evil!



-San Francisco street song, circa. 1907. Author unknown.

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Xander Bennett rearranges words for fun and profit. Read a preview of his new book at www.cagescomic.com.

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