Any Extreme Prognostication Except
You - a loan - are the Most High!
The counting-master howled
In Latin to the waiting throng
Who, often disembowelled,
Gave, as one, a most loud sigh
After Vespers, Clive Sinclair
And Members of his Team
Set foot across the Upper Air
And filled the Room with Steam
(as substitute for song)
In the end where bugles dared
He loosed a playful blast
Which sounded through the centuries
From future into past
Loud and clear, but no-one cared
| Contributors: | Apsley, Roland, Chevalier. |
| Poem finished: | 27th September 2005 by Roland. |