With the greatest of skill –
……….. way up high on the hill –
she is whistling up tunes just like girls on hills will,
and they’d float through the gloom of the chimneys that bloomed
in the city
………………of Smog Slinger
Up up high in the sky where the girl liked to play . . .
On a day she was hopeful would be a nice day –
All the sunlight
……………………………………..was faading away. . .
…….she looked down at town,
at the good ol’ Slump Pump,
Where the slumpers were mixing up clumps of Slump Gump.
Yes, the world’s finest smog that they sold by the lump.
Twas dingy and dirty, it had a bad smell,
But the smog slingers made it because it would sell.
(Yes, they made lots of money – it sold very well).
Now, some said Gump’s bad!, and they really should ban it!,
But Slump Pump kept mixing up batches to can it
And ship it to every which end of the planet.
“Slump Gump isn’t bad”, all the Smog Slingers said.
“It is good for the world and it buys us our bread.
Now it’s new and improved with just half of the lead!
So, don’t all ya’ll fret ’bout what blows from these stacks.
It’s just smoke, it’s not smog, and it’s legal as tax.
And some smoke’s okey-dokey, and that is the facts!”
But up high on the hill known as Grumply Bump
Cried a girl all a’whirl on a willow tree stump –
Oh, my poor fading sun
they have stolen your shimmer –
you’re pale in the sky,
you are barely a glimmer.
They’re stealing the sun –
and I’m sure it’s a crime –
They are turning the world into grime for a dime!
But the slumpers just chortled. They said, “That sure stings!
To imply we would do such deplorable things!
When everyone knows it’s that girl who just sings!
While we’re working hard, we are saddened to say,
It is she, and not we, who is stealing the day.
She is nearer the sky than down here at the pump,
And she’s stealing the sun bit by bit with each jump!
And it says in our policy – That Can’t Occur –
And so sadly we, gladly, must get rid of her!”
So, he gave a young laddie a broom and a wink,
And he said “you climb up, son, and sweep up this stink.
You’re promoted to Boy Who Makes Tattlers Not Sing,
And then, then my friend, you can live there as king!”
So the boy started climbing the hill they call Grumbly.
He took nimble steps so as not to be stumbly,
But then, something made him stop still, and stare dumbly . . .
Through the gloom came a tune -a swoonifulous song.
Soon he found he was smiling and humming along.
But the boss down below shouted “Boy, that’s just wrong!
The whole World is waiting, we haven’t a choice,
It is time we have silenced that terrible voice!”
So the lad climbed on up, up the grumbly hill,
Then he hopped once, and stopped, and stood perfectly still.
He looked down at town and it gave him a chill…
Oh, the smog was so thick that it covered the city,
Like thousands of wolves – creeping growly and gritty.
He shouted, “I’d never be king of this town!
I’d prefer to defer, Sir, I’ll make a good clown
With the hills for my throne and the stars for my crown”.
So, the girl on the hill came and gave him a bell,
And together they belled and they yelled for a spell.
Yes, together they belled and they yelled very well.
Now, the boss of Slump Pump was galumphingly mad.
“How I cared for that boy, and it’s making me sad.
Why, I’ll just have to send up another young lad.”
And so lad number two went to make the girl stop,
Climbing up, up the hill – all the way to the top –
With a bucket of ooily gooey green glop.
“I will drown them in Glop, in a great bouncing blob!
I will drown them in Glop or my name isn’t Bob!”
And so, lads 1 and 2 and the girl stood and stared.
They belled and they yelled, they bellowed and blared!!!
And twas then Lad 2 stopped and stood perfectly still,
Saying, “Why, it sure is peaceful up here on this hill,
And my name’s not Bob, I remember, it’s Bill!”
So he took all the gooey green glop in the pail,
And he sent it back down to the boss in the mail.
“Why, this is an outrage!” the boss did declare.
.This is really hard work – this is really unfair –
How they’re cheerfully chiming and griming the air!”
So he made more Slump Pumpers climb onto a bus.
“Save the sun!!!” they all thundered, and made a big fuss.
Oh, they raced up the hilltop – they looked everywhere –
They looked low and hi – but the sun was not there.
Their boss, it now seemed, had been telling a lie –
The girl had not stolen the sun from the sky.
Now the boss sure was cross! He had lost his whole team.
He sat down on a flower and started to scheme.
Yes, he dreamed sour dreams till his ears filled with steam.
And he scurried and worried that people would guess
It was he, and not she, who was making this mess.
“Well, as long as I keep making plenty of cash
Then I don’t care one whit if this town turns to trash.
If the sun disappears and the skies turn to ash!!!”
So, he sent up an army of rickety flappers,
(Mechanical birds with sharp teeth in their yappers
And big curling claws at the ends of their clappers).
They flew up to sup, but the smog too deep,
And since flappers can’t fly when their peepers can’t peep
They fell down from the sky in a rickety heap.
Next up went a burbling Saber Toothed Penguin
Who charged up the hill with a sickening grin,
But then fell fast asleep when they tickled her chin.
“Oh, that’s it!” cried the boss, as he switched on the pump.
“I will git all them traitors who live on the bump!
I will drown this whole town in a cloud of Slump Gump!!!”
The pump started pumping – it gave good huff –
But all it could blow was a small cloud of fluff.
Just a small cloud of fluff was all it could puff.
For without all the Slumpers to mix up the gump,
There just wasn’t much smog left to blow from the pump,
And it made a small cloud that blew up to the bump.
And when it got up there, this small smoggy missile,
The girl made it vanish with only a whistle.
She blew a small whistle, not even that noisy,
And blew the smog cloud all the way to New Joisy.
And now, the whole sky is as blue as a sigh
With the slap happy flappers all fluttering by,
And the world, last I checked, goes on spinning and spinning,
The breeze is still teasing – the sun is still grinning,
And the Slumpers, well they sorta wandered away
Just a’wishin ‘n’ whistlin – at least so they say.
And the girl?
………………….She’s still up on that hill till this day.
And she spins in the sun as it’s cheering the chill –
Just a’spinnin ‘n’ grinnin – like girls on hills will –
And sometimes, in the wind, you may hear the sweet trill
Of the girl
……………….of Smog Slinger
– The Beginning –