PHILADLEPHIA

(by Rudyard Kipling / Peter Bellamy / Will Quale)

If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning,
You mustn't take my stories for a guide.
There's little left indeed of the city you will read of,
And all the folk I write about have died.
Now few will understand if you mention Talleyrand,
Or remember what his cunning and his skill did.
And the cabmen at the wharf do not know Count Zinnendorf,
Nor the Church in Philadelphia he builded.

It's gone, gone, gone with lost Atlantis
(Never say I didn't give you warning).
In Seventeen Ninety-three 'twas there for all to see,
But it's not in Philadelphia this morning.

If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning,
You mustn't go by everything I've said.
Bob Bicknell's Southern Stages have been laid aside for ages,
But the Limited will take you there instead.
And Toby Hirte he can't be seen at One Hundred and Eighteen,
North Second Street -- no matter when you call;
And I fear you'll search in vain for the wash-house down the lane
Where young Pharaoh played the fiddle at the ball.

It's gone, gone, gone with Thebes the Golden
(Never say I didn't give you warning).
In Seventeen Ninety-four it was a famous dancing-floor --
But it's not in Philadelphia this morning.

If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning,
You must telegraph for rooms at some Hotel.
You needn't try your luck at Epply's or the "Buck",
Though the Father of his Country liked them well.
And it is not the slightest use to inquire for Adam Goos,
Or to ask where Pastor Meder has removed -- so
You must treat as out-of-date the story I relate
Of the Church in Philadelphia he loved so.

He's gone, gone, gone with Martin Luther
(Never say I didn't give you warning).
In Seventeen Ninety-five he was (rest his soul!) alive,
But he's not in Philadelphia this morning.

But if you're off to Philadelphia this morning,
And you wish to prove the truth of what I say,
I pledge my word you'll find the pleasant land behind
Unaltered since Red Jacket rode that way.
Still the pine-woods scent the noon; still the cat-bird sings his tune;
Still Autumn sets the maple-forest blazing.
Still the grape-vine through the dusk flings her soul-compelling musk;
Still the fire-flies in the corn make night amazing.

They're there, there, there with Earth immortal
(Citizens, I give you friendly warning).
That the things that truly last when men and times have passed,
They are all in Pennsylvania this morning!

***

Now if you're off to Philadelphia this morning
You may have read that bad things happen there
A century has passed since Kipling wrote of things that last
And there's a war between two creatures with orange hair
A tyrant tweets his lies, but our leader's googly eyes
Will hypnotize the one who froths and fumes and gloats
Under Penn upon his steeple, Gritty leads on We the People
And today the people triumphed with our votes

He will go, go, go with all his cronies
(Never say we didn't give you warning),
Good things came to pass -- and we hope that they will last --
Thanks to the grit of Philadelphia this morning.

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