| THE SINS of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson. | |
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| The sins of Kalamazoo are a convict gray, a dishwater drab. | |
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| And the people who sin the sins of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson. | |
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| They run to drabs and grays—and some of them sing they shall be washed whiter than snow—and some: We should worry. | |
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| Yes, Kalamazoo is a spot on the map | 5 |
| And the passenger trains stop there | |
| And the factory smokestacks smoke | |
| And the grocery stores are open Saturday nights | |
| And the streets are free for citizens who vote | |
| And inhabitants counted in the census. | 10 |
| Saturday night is the big night. | |
| Listen with your ears on a Saturday night in Kalamazoo | |
| And say to yourself: I hear America, I hear, what do I hear? | |
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| Main street there runs through the middle of the twon | |
| And there is a dirty postoffice | 15 |
| And a dirty city hall | |
| And a dirty railroad station | |
| And the United States flag cries, cries the Stars and Stripes to the four winds on Lincoln’s birthday and the Fourth of July. | |
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| Kalamazoo kisses a hand to something far off. | |
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| Kalamazoo calls to a long horizon, to a shivering silver angel, to a creeping mystic what-is-it. | 20 |
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| “We’re here because we’re here,” is the song of Kalamazoo. | |
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| “We don’t know where we’re going but we’re on our way,” are the words. | |
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| There are hound dogs of bronze on the public square, hound dogs looking far beyond the public square. | |
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| Sweethearts there in Kalamazoo | |
| Go to the general delivery window of the postoffice | 25 |
| And speak their names and ask for letters | |
| And ask again, “Are you sure there is nothing for me? | |
| I wish you’d look again—there must be a letter for me.” | |
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| And sweethearts go to the city hall | |
| And tell their names and say,“We want a license.” | 30 |
| And they go to an installment house and buy a bed on time and a clock | |
| And the children grow up asking each other, “What can we do to kill time?” | |
| They grow up and go to the railroad station and buy tickets for Texas, Pennsylvania, Alaska. | |
| “Kalamazoo is all right,” they say. “But I want to see the world.” | |
| And when they have looked the world over they come back saying it is all like Kalamazoo. | 35 |
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| The trains come in from the east and hoot for the crossings, | |
| And buzz away to the peach country and Chicago to the west | |
| Or they come from the west and shoot on to the Battle Creek breakfast bazaars | |
| And the speedbug heavens of Detroit. | |
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| “I hear America, I hear, what do I hear?” | 40 |
| Said a loafer lagging along on the sidewalks of Kalamazoo, | |
| Lagging along and asking questions, reading signs. | |
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| Oh yes, there is a town named Kalamazoo, | |
| A spot on the map where the trains hesitate. | |
| I saw the sign of a five and ten cent store there | 45 |
| And the Standard Oil Company and the International Harvester | |
| And a graveyard and a ball grounds | |
| And a short order counter where a man can get a stack of wheats | |
| And a pool hall where a rounder leered confidential like and said: | |
| “Lookin’ for a quiet game?” | 50 |
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| The loafer lagged along and asked, | |
| “Do you make guitars here? | |
| Do you make boxes the singing wood winds ask to sleep in? | |
| Do you rig up strings the singing wood winds sift over and sing low?” | |
| The answer: “We manufacture musical instruments here.” | 55 |
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| Here I saw churches with steeples like hatpins, | |
| Undertaking rooms with sample coffins in the show window | |
| And signs everywhere satisfaction is guaranteed, | |
| Shooting galleries where men kill imitation pigeons, | |
| And there were doctors for the sick, | 60 |
| And lawyers for people waiting in jail, | |
| And a dog catcher and a superintendent of streets, | |
| And telephones, water-works, trolley cars, | |
| And newspapers with a splatter of telegrams from sister cities of Kalamazoo the round world over. | |
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| And the loafer lagging along said: | 65 |
| Kalamazoo, you ain’t in a class by yourself; | |
| I seen you before in a lot of places. | |
| If you are nuts America is nuts. | |
| And lagging along he said bitterly: | |
| Before I came to Kalamazoo I was silent. | 70 |
| Now I am gabby, God help me, I am gabby. | |
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| Kalamazoo, both of us will do a fadeaway. | |
| I will be carried out feet first | |
| And time and the rain will chew you to dust | |
| And the winds blow you away. | 75 |
| And an old, old mother will lay a green moss cover on my bones | |
| And a green moss cover on the stones of your postoffice and city hall. | |
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| Best of all | |
| I have loved your kiddies playing run-sheep-run | |
| And cutting their initials on the ball ground fence. | 80 |
| They knew every time I fooled them who was fooled and how. | |
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| Best of all | |
| I have loved the red gold smoke of your sunsets; | |
| I have loved a moon with a ring around it | |
| Floating over your public square; | 85 |
| I have loved the white dawn frost of early winter silver | |
| And purple over your railroad tracks and lumber yards. | |
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| The wishing heart of you I loved, Kalamazoo. | |
| I sang bye-lo, bye-lo to your dreams. | |
| I sang bye-lo to your hopes and songs. | 90 |
| I wished to God there were hound dogs of bronze on your public square, | |
| Hound dogs with bronze paws looking to a long horizon with a shivering silver angel, a creeping mystic what-is-it. | |
