Twas two thousand fourteen at the State House of old
When a plain box was found in a lion of gold
They called it a capsule and the media sung
In some weeks it would open and bring lots of fun
The calendar passed and the seconds ticked by
And Bostonians wondered what would be inside
From broadsheets to labels to bottles of beer
These prospects buried more than one hundred years
But days before historians revealed the big find
They asked how we’ll be recalled by mankind
So from Allston to Eastie they rushed and they came
To fill the next capsule in their neighborhood’s name
From Hyde Park they brought photographs of Menino
And inscriptions that he’s our municipal hero
The Roslindale folks they all seemed to agree
But hoped the next century might bring them a T
West Roxbury residents were surely left out
Still battered from ceding their political clout
Next door in JP they protested the project
All claiming the lion’s a most fascist object
Mission Hill natives looked for something authentic
But Northeastern took over and now it’s all rented
In Roxbury they brought pics of friends tragically killed
While police logged all of the surveillance they filmed
In Fenway the baseball fans formed a committee
And agreed that a Sox hat could speak for the city
Our neighbors they mostly stayed home in Brookline
But slipped a parking ticket in that inflates over time
The Beacon Hill elites couldn’t make room on their schedule
Though they made sure the capsule wasn’t wheelchair accessible
From the State House the crooks all brought nothing but dirt
To remind people that reps were the scum of the earth
Allstonians gave drugs and some awesome show posters
While Back Bay brought iPads and a round of mimosas
From Simco’s in Mattapan they packed hot dogs to go
And our friends in East Boston cooked arroz con pollo
Some Charlestown old timers wanted shamrocks and fifths
But the yuppies all chipped in for Pottery Barn gifts
Rifts in the South End and Southie had similar taste
And why not use the lion to hold parking space
They asked Mayor Walsh what should be tucked away firm
And not opened until it’s his twenty sixth term
He said, ‘Whatever so long as Dorchester’s in favor’
Which it was ’cause the lion job was organized labor
From Harvard they offered their Ivy League ties
But were returned to the river with their heads in their thighs
The Chinatown locals brought departing words
Because when the next capsule comes they’ll have been pushed to the ‘burbs
With a North End cannoli they completed their tour
And put these words in the lion for the next time he roars
A Queens, NY native who came to New England in 2004 to earn his MA in journalism at Boston University, Chris Faraone is the editor and co-publisher of DigBoston and a co-founder of the Boston Institute for Nonprofit Journalism. He has published several books including 99 Nights with the 99 Percent, and has written liner notes for hip-hop gods including Cypress Hill, Pete Rock, Nas, and various members of the Wu-Tang Clan.
