People of the Quaker City,
How the world must stand aghast
At your wondrous veneration
For those relics of the past,
Kept in such precise condition,
Fostered with such tender care--
Don't, oh! don't the Philadelphians
Love old Independence Square?
Splendid are its walks and grass-plots
Where the bootblacks base-ball play,
And its seats resembling toad-stools,
On which loafers lounge all day,
Waiting for their luck, or gazing
At the office of the Mayor--
Don't, oh! don't the Philadelphians
Love old Independence Square?
Then, behold the fine old State-house
Cleanly kept inside and out,
Where the faithful office-holders
Squirt tobacco-juice about:
Placards highly ornamental
Decorate its outward wall--
Don't, oh! don't the Philadelphians
Love old Independence Hall?
O! ye gods and little fishes!
Could bill-sticker be so vile
As to paste up nasty posters
On the sacred classic pile?
Greece and Rome yet have their relics,
But what are they? very small.
Never half so venerated
As old Independence Hall.
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