Twas the night before Steamfest, when all through the house Everything began ticking, even the mouse; The goggles and corsets were laid out with care, In hopes that Steamfest soon would be there; The brigands and gentlemen all snug in their beds; While plans for automatons danced in their heads; And ShayLa in her tunic, and I in my cap, Had just finished our costumes and sewed the last snap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, We sprang from the table to see what was the matter, Away to the window we flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash, The moon on the breast of the ground down below, Gave a lustre of midday to the objects below, When what to our wondering eyes did appear, But a group of bronze men and items so queer, With a little old man so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he must be Clock-worker Nick, More rapid than eagles, the bronze men, they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: Now Clanger! Now, Glomper! Now Pinger and Clikken! On, Comet! On, Boiler! On Dancer and Tikken! To the edge of the yard! To the edge of the street! On to steamfest with shiny bronze feet! -Rory Anderson
Posted on: Thu, 31 Jul 2014 20:30:00 +0000