In a quaint train car
Wheels
p a
s r
k on the tracks
Dinner was served
The forks
and knives
and their
clacks
No-one ever stopped to wonder
“Who left us,
rendered us asunder?”
See, no-one remembered her
Such a
blunder
Searching was the only way
But, of course,
it begun in vain.
A music man begun to say:
“The people here,
they lie.
They do it for the gain”
At once they began to comprise
A plan to win this psychological scheme
But instead they found a different prize
and tried with might to dismiss it as a dream.