The Day President Harding Came

Ever last jack man, woman, and papoose 
was down to the station to see the President 
come steaming in, smoke blowing, Panama waving
pleasure to ride your new train yessir nice 
country Senator Smoot Squint Indian howdaya do. 

Shade side of Main we watched five miles of cars 
head for Zion. Dust from here to Harmony. 
He bit into a Dixie Peach at Anderson’s 
Ranch. Choirs, drums, and bunting all the way 
to the Great White Throne. Then Buicks, Pages, 
Model T’s boiled up the Black Ridge to Cedar 
and the folks shook Mr. President’s tired hand 
and my uncle said, “How are you, Warren G.?”