As I went over Spencer Street,
   Where traffic tears the tortured air,
A puzzled man I chanced to meet
   Who gazed upon the station there --
A stranger, as his mein proclaimed,
   He wore a most bewildered air,
As one lost in a city famed
   For buildings fine and beauty rare. 

"Fairest Queen City of the South."
   I saw him sadly shake his head,
What time he gazed with open mouth
   Upon a corrugated shed,
A pile of rare antiquity
   Where busy traffic goes and comes.
Then, brightening, he said to me,
            "Show me your slums."

"Den"
Herald, 5 February 1929, p4