As Molasses in January
Along the Boston river bank
Upon the wintry ground,
There stood a giant storage tank
At ninety feet around.
Filled with sweet and sticky goo
A million gallon load,
The mighty tank completely blew.
The syrup did explode.
Throughout the streets a sticky wave
Went crashing like the sea.
To everything a glaze it gave--
A dark and sodden lea.
It covered all in death so brown
And even flipped a train.
Some twenty souls fell in and drowned
To never rise again.
Now people by the Charles say
That when the sky is fair
Up 'till this very present day
They smell molasses in the air.
–published by River Poets Journal