﻿Jerusalem Redestroyed
By T-BONE SLIM 
 
THE saddest words, on tongues of men, are these——perhaps——”It might have been.” 
Perhaps, indeed! For . . . . 
For sadder words are spoken. Words that defy description. Words that denote all the agony of failure, defeat, retreat—aye rout and despair, “I HAD A CARD.” 
Can you imagine anything more heartrending? “I HAD A CARD—I was a man once ‘t. I fought for freedom. I was a Wobbly —Now, I’m nothing . . . . . nothing . . . nothing. . . . The road is long, the way is rough —I am weary. I’m alone. Nothing. Nothing in my pocket . . . (to pull out and look at) — How many times of yore I used to pull it out on the lonesome trail, “you my pard — while the owl wondered who . . . who . . . who am I— I wasn’t alone then! 
Gosh no, there was four of us------ 
A jungle fire, a chew of snuff —and thou . . . . my card . . . . and I. Four? Now? Nothing, zero! 
I will rise and go to my father’s house. 
There are Wobblies. There are fellow workers. 
I will leave this mental edifice that is falling about my ears— I will go back. 
I can’t go back? Why not? The trail is lost? No, nor I. . . . . The hell I can’t. . . . . Stop me! 
I’ on my way. And . . . . . 
I will eat that fatted calf, Capitalism — a lumbering cow by this time. . . . . . I would dine. I would feast— the tougher the better, I’m hungry——my spirit yearns food. 
The banquet awaits, my lords.