Dogville

Dogville was in the Rocky Mountains

in the US of A.

Up here where the road came to its

definiteve end near the entrance to the old,

abandoned silver mine.

The residents of Dogville were good,

honest folks and they liked their township.

And while a sentimental soul from the East Coast

had once dubbed their main street ELM STREET,

though no elm tree had ever

cast its shadow in Dogville,

they saw no reason to change anything.

Most of the buildings were pretty wretched;

more like shacks; frankly.

The house in which Tome lived

was the best, though,

and in good times might almost

have passed for presentable.

That afternoon the radio was playing softly,

for in his dotage Thomas Edison Senior

had developed a weakness for music of the lighter kind.

[Radio Presenter] Ladies and Gentlemen...

the President of the United States...

Tom, do me a favor, will you?

The radio!?

Just because the music's over and

you might risk hearing something useful?

I thought that's why we have the radio...

Well, I need a rest, as you know.

Mock me if you like.

[Narrator] Tom's father had been a doctor

and now received a modest pension,

so it was no great disaster for Tom

to drift about not doing anything in particular.

Tom was a writer.

...at any rate by his own lights.

Oh, his output as committed to paper

was so far limited to the words "great" and "small",

followed by question mark,

but nevertheless meticulously archived

in one of his many bureau drawers.

'Bye, Dad.

Evenin' Master Tom.

Good evening, Master Olivia.

Don't forget about the meeting tomorrow.

Noooo

[Narrator] In order to postpone the time

at which he would have to put pen to pater in earnest,

Tom had now come up with

a series of meetings on moral rearmament

with which he felt obliged to benefit the town.

- Hi, kids.

- Hi, Tom.

Good evening Chuck.

Will we see you at the meeting tomorrow?

Well, I could do without your lectures.

You know Vera.

Wouldn't give me moment's peace

till I said yes.

Who gave Moses that bone?

It's still got meat on it.

Jason did.

Jason gave that mutt a bone

with meat on it?

When did we last see meat?

Next time you waste good food,

I'll take your knife away.

I would know it was you give'n meat to eat.

Moses was meant to be hungry! To keep watch.

Keep watch in Dogville?

What's there to steal?

These are wicked time, Tom Edison.

Soon there'll be folks by

with even less than us.

[Narrator] Indeed..Tom was busy enough,

even though, formally speaking,

not yet busy with writing per se.

And if a body found it hard to grasp

what profession he was busy at,

he'd merely reply "mining".

For although he did not blast

his way through rock,

he blasted through what was even harder...

namely, the human soul...

right into where it glistered!

- Hey, Martha.

- Hello, Tom.

Listen, they're all comin',

so you just have those benches ready.

Yes, they're ready.

Oh, but Tom, I repeat,

if you need to use my organ

I got to get special permission

from the regional director, Tom.

Martha, and I repeat,

we don't need the organ.

We can be spiritual without singing

or reading from the Bible.

It's almost seven.

Don't forget your bell now.

I imagine that'll do Ma Ginger.

I don't think it's good for the soil

with all the raking and hoeing.

It's the soil that gave life to us all.

Don't give me any of your lip,

Thomas Edison Jr.

I'll hoe as I darn well please!

Yeah, and spoil the whole thing!

I agree with Tom.

Yeah, well he likes eating my pies,

don't you?

Well they're tasty.

No doubt about it.

Yeah. So when it comes to hoeing,

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