Listen my children and you will hear,
Of what to my wondering eyes should have appeared,
Four score and seven years ago.
The time has passed for fast-paced horses,
So hanging Christmas-colored traffic lights should be obvious of courses.
It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
On my midnight rides in Orem town,
It's not chimneys I've seen explosions and fistfights going down.
It's lucky I did not not perish from the earth.
But Provo, wrapped in silence so deep and still,
Not a car was stirring, until,
It was discovered that not all roads are created equal.
On the 800 North traffic tower as a signal light,
It flashed away! flashed away! a turn other than right!
A fitting tribute to people who have thus far so nobly advanced.