The Anomalous Island

A little way off from the shoreline
Set in Long Island Sound,
Lies the kingdom that’s known as Hen Island,
To none of our laws is it bound.

The City of Rye and the County
Have sent their inspectors to see
If antediluvian dung pits
Flow into the Sound routinely.

“Why, nothing is wrong here,” they’ve stated.
“There’s no violation!” they’ve cried.
But perk tests have proved they’re mistaken –
Raw sewage goes out with the tide …

Hen Island they’ve termed an anomaly,
“It deviates from the norm,”
So they can pollute the environment
Each day from evening to morn.

What then of the gas situation?
With propane tanks galore –
There could be a humongous explosion
But officials prefer to ignore.

And hey, there’s no potable water:
They use what drains off of the roof.
It’s full of e coli and guano –
We’ve had it tested for proof.

The rusty remains of a boat dock
Have sat on the beach for some time.
Must someone get grievously hurt here,
Before the dock owner is fined?

When asked why they won’t clean their act up
Folks on Hen Island reply,
“We’ve done it this way forever –
You can’t make us change, so don’t try.”

If you went to Rye Beach or Playland
And took away cart-loads of sand,
Rye City officials would hunt you down
With ticket and summons in hand.

But if on Hen Island you wanted
To build up your own little plot,
“Looks O.K. to us,” they would tell you,
“You’re breaking the law, but so what?”

Send an e-mail to Rye City
And one to the County as well,
Tell them to uphold the laws
Tell them you’re mad as hell.