Reclamation is the word today,
As the conservation movement
Comes into sway,
Permitting reuse of the essential elements.
They came and took Ben away,
Just after the break of day.
The dog didn't understand
What had happened to his man.
Late to the show was His'oner
But later late than never
Are all poets mad?
That's the question, to be had
Maybe posed by Shakespeare (As well he might
in Winter's Night.)
To Humbug Molly, her ilk, and all
Misfortune attend and disaster befall!
May life be to her a succession of hurts;
May fleas by the bushel inhabit her skirts;
Sharp on one end
Rubber on th' other
Useful for writing
Like no other.
Alas, it had to end
For you see, it was my friend
That stole into my garden near
And took down the fruit, so dear.
There lies the body cold and wet
Left by the survivors less we forget
A shadow of what was and would never be again
The reminder that greatness is a fickle thing.
At first there were majors, five
It is not to be denied
They provided services
Expected of financial houses.