Ballad of the Creature from Galt’s Gulch
Lepe, we begged a crop o’ thee,
yet bitter fruit, psychopathy,
made mock of purse and constant fuss.
‘Tis all that Johnson offered us.
From town to shore he built infame
through methods harsh, too cruel to name:
assault, canard, mendacity,
and great offense olfactory.
Unfit as master, Johnson made
Chileans work as slaves unpaid.
To pampered pup, the salmon steak
’twas barred from man, did famine make.
Please, no strychnine in his cup,
for should we see him drink it up,
the dogs will eat but victims mourn.
No will or trust did he adorn.
With tales of woe and lust and scorn
will Johnson die and leave forlorn
all his just superiors,
for all was his and his was yours.
Work and toil came from that fruit,
No arguing, the case is moot,
And to each other we must cling
To cease or bear our suffering.
Shared years of toil we dedicate
to apprehend this reprobate.
Our goal’s fruition is to slam
the cell door shut and stop the spam.
The vision held in image clear
in court, prisoner with shackle gear,
he captured, tried and guilty found
showed no remorse, though he be bound.
All witnessed his defiant call,
“Not one investor. Clients all!”
–Terence Gillespie and Cathy Cuthbert
See more about GGC at Terence’s website: