A SWEET POEM OF PEORIA

Peoria! City of tractors, actors, and river,

Gauntlet to the soul,

And a cruel forgiver,

Birthplace of Pryor,

NO streetcar named desire,

Just a train or a barge,

Or a convict at large, 

Chicago has it's might and glory,

But Peoria has a darker story,

Of things too vile to share,

Which you are unaware, 

Of innocents lay down to sleep, 

And never dare to freely weep, 

For chance their masters hear a peep, 

And cast them down into the deep, 

 Where certain angels choose to dwell, 

A place that's 10 times worse than HELL,

That eats our very souls away,

 With pain that will eternally stay, 

 Your laughter is to hide your fear, 

Revealed in yet another beer,  

 That like a serpent slithers down, 

and spews it's venom all around, 

But let your heart not tremble, see, 

This poem is not reality, 

Peoria is a happy town , 

And we don't want to put it down, 

 For what we fear is fantasy, 

At least that's what we MUST believe! 

BURMA SHAVE!