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.