The Sign on the Gate

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
We don't require your magic fire
That burns and burns in snow and rain
We ought not to have to ask again
About the orange and silver wire
And the boxes that just glow black
The music liable to give a heart attack
Maybe you've heard a thing or two
That we're Luddites, Fundamentalists
Overseers of great prohibition lists --
Or perhaps you've heard our canticle:
"Artifice is grand and much befitting, wealth
But every child must learn one day
To keep his hands to himself."

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