A Dampened Ardor

The Chinatown at Bakersfield Was blazing bright and high; The flames to water would not yield, Though torrents drenched the sky And drowned the ground for miles around-- The houses were so dry.

Then rose an aged preacher man Whom all did much admire, Who said: "To force on you my plan I truly don't aspire, But streams, it seems, might quench these beams If turned upon the fire."

The fireman said: "This hoary wight His folly dares to thrust On us! 'Twere well he felt our might-- Nay, he shall feel our must!" With jet of wet and small regret They laid that old man's dust.