The Devil went down to Dorchester. He was looking for a soul to steal. He was way behind and he was in a bind and he was willing to make a deal. He got off the Red Line at Andrew and walked all the way down Dot Ave to Lower Mills. Then he took a right on River Road all the way to Mattapan. At Mattapan Square he took another right, trudging up Blue Hill Avenue. Then he took another right down Columbia Road all the way to Massachusetts Avenue. He wandered through the parking lot at South Bay Center, stopping in at Home Depot to pick up a Phillips head screwdriver and a roll of duct tape that he needed, and then he took Southhampton Street back to Andrew Square.
It was a long, oblong ramble and during it all the Devil didn't meet a single sinner who wanted to barter their soul away. All he got was bunions and, in an odd way, he was sort of satisfied after having trudged so many blocks. He felt refreshed after inhaling that clean, honest Dorchester air. Better a bunion in Dorchester than a flat on Pinckney Street, as they say around Codman Square.
Dorchester is like that. Everyone is content and can't fathom wanting anything more than being where they are. When you live in Dorchester, you are as close to Heaven as you'll ever be in this world. The Devil learned a lesson that day. He headed back on the Red Line to Charles/MGH. His business is better on Beacon Hill and he knew he would make his quota before midnight.
2 comments:
Ha! Charlie Daniels would be proud. Although I keep hearing this as a sea shanty rather than fiddling country tune.
Thank you Lisa. I botched the lines a bit but I don't want to be accused of plagarism. Of course Dorchester is bounded by the sea on one side and I can't recall the last time I heard a violin in this part of Boston.
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