Last Fall of the Alamo“I am—Excuse me, I was—the Alamo.Ye who have tears to shed,Shed.Shades of Crockett, Bowie and the restWho in my sacred blood-stained walls were slain!Shades of the fifty or sixty solitary survivors,Each of whom alone escaped;And shades of the dozen or so daughters,Sisters, cousins and aunts of the Alamo,Protest!Against this foul indignity.Ain’t there enough jobs in the cityThat need whitewashingWithout jumping on me?Did I stand off 5,000 Mexicans in ’36To be kalsomined and wall-paperedAnd fixed up with dados and pink mottoesIn ’96?Why don’t you put bloomers on me at once,And call meThe New Alamo?—Tamaleville!You make me tired.I can stand a good deal yet,So don’t have any more chrysanthemum showsIn me.If you doI’ll fall on you.Sabe?”(Houston Daily Post, Monday morning, April 13, 1896.)
“I am—Excuse me, I was—the Alamo.Ye who have tears to shed,Shed.Shades of Crockett, Bowie and the restWho in my sacred blood-stained walls were slain!Shades of the fifty or sixty solitary survivors,Each of whom alone escaped;And shades of the dozen or so daughters,Sisters, cousins and aunts of the Alamo,Protest!Against this foul indignity.Ain’t there enough jobs in the cityThat need whitewashingWithout jumping on me?Did I stand off 5,000 Mexicans in ’36To be kalsomined and wall-paperedAnd fixed up with dados and pink mottoesIn ’96?Why don’t you put bloomers on me at once,And call meThe New Alamo?—Tamaleville!You make me tired.I can stand a good deal yet,So don’t have any more chrysanthemum showsIn me.If you doI’ll fall on you.Sabe?”
(Houston Daily Post, Monday morning, April 13, 1896.)