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