Hickory, dickory, dock. The mouse ran up the clock
and, coincidentally, the phone bill and the heating bill
and his friend the duck ran up the rest of the bills.
When fire and zombies run over your town
Please never forget: throw the old gauntlet down.
Don't let semi-humans and chemical change
Determine your pessimisticity's range.
Dare them onward, and upward with wittical phrases
Like "I bet these catastrophes won't up nurse wages.
Through hailstorm, invasion, and civil unrest,
In Healthcare the market will never invest.
While Benjamin Franklin thinks 'In God We Trust',
Allah can't break our economy's crust."
Those zombies, whose very existence depends
On finding the maxim "Things could be worse"'s ends
Will stagger in wonder at wittical phrases
Like "I bet this zombie stuff won't get us raises."
I find when pencil meets untimely end
A jam, mechanically caused, jeers
And pencil, once upon a time my friend
Makes mockery my face before my peers.
Deep down inside, I wonder - what to do?
This harbinger of scribbles' ruling hand
Reduced to bidding florid prose adieu
Must, for a leaden comrade, scour the land.
But no! This trav'ler, trembling for the quest
Of gallant, winged errantry to come
Shall not, though almost to retreat be pressed,
By writing implement be made look dumb.
So! Bash the pencil's tip upon the desk
And by that blow, revitalise the pesk.
I'm beginning to like having copies of the original documents when possible. Therefore:
