Mayor Moran declared an 8:00 p.m. curfew that night
and ordered all remaining saloons closed until further notice.
The mayor in his wisdom, turning
From flames outside his window’s view,
Declared that—with this fire burning
The whole damn town by nail and screw—
The citizens should not be drinking
From wells of fire water (thinking
That booze might ease the pain of ash
Or make a fire line of cash
For workman’s wages turned to embers);
No, better call the night a day,
Let ashes cool and dreams be gay:
Of wet Novembers and Decembers
And sitting by the fireside,
Hot buttered rum, and Christmastide.