Those who favor our plan to alter the river,
raise your hand.
Thank you for your vote.
Last week, you'll recall I spoke about how water never
complains.
How it runs where we tell it seemingly at home,
flooding grain, or pinched by geometric banks
like those in this graphic depiction of our plan.
We asked for power.
A river falls or boils to turn our turbines,
the river approves our plan to alter the river.
Due to a shipwreck downstream, I'm
sad to report our project is not on schedule.
The boat was carrying cement for our concrete rip rap
balustrade.
That will force the river to run East of the factory site
through the state-owned Grove of cedar,
then the uncooperative Carpenters Union
went on strike.
When we get that settled and the concrete, given good weather,
we can go ahead with our plans to alter the river.
We have the injunction.
We silence the opposition.
The materials arrived.
The workers are back and everything's humming.
I thank you for this award.
This handsome plaque I'll keep forever above my mantel,
and I'll read the inscription often aloud
to remind me how with your courageous backing,
I fought our battle and won.
I'll always remember this banquet this day
we started to alter the river.
Flowers on the bank, a park on forgotten island,
return of cedar and salmon, who are these men?
These Jonny's come lately with plans to alter the river.
What's this wild festival in May, celebrating the run off,
display floats on fire at night, and the forest
dance under the stars.
Children sing through my locked door.
Old stranger, we're going to alter, to alter,
alter the river just when the water was settled and at home.
[APPLAUSE]
Thank you very much.