Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos - PM
Date: 03 Apr 07 - 01:22 PM

We were 16-8 and ninety-eight
Just two from sixteen-nine.
And the loom of seventeen thousand
Was seen down past the line.
Then with vicious broomstick waved aloft,
We heard our Mother say,
"Git out of bed, you worthless slouch!
Move out! There's seventeen K!"

So we rubbed our eyes, and looked around,
And fell into our clothes.
And out the window, over the hill,
Where the sun had lately rose,
Why sure enough, a bright gold glow,
Like the start of a second day
Was brightening up the clouds below,
The glow of Seventeen K.

We could see it shine like Gabriel's Horn,
Where the heavens meet the dawn.
And we swore our eyes were playing tricks,
And blinked; but it wasn't gone.
And all that morning it glittered there,
Like an angel hard at play.
And we knew in our hearts, we had better start
Moving out for Seventeen K.

Now somewhere men are stern and glum,
Where there burdens are too grim.
Somewhere a man turn his back on life,
'Cuz it's just too much for him.
And somewhere folks can't understand
Why children laugh, and play.
But the MOAB crew understand that, too,
As they head for Seventeen K.

We know it's there, just over the hill
If you look right, it's quite clear,
Like the pale green flash on the ocean's back
When the setting sun draws near.
So just keep your calm, if the sons of Mom
Gallop past, berserk but gay,
And give them a smile as they make that mile
That will bring on Seventteen K.

Ransom Arbuthnot Stumpwhumper
The Voice from Over the Hill
Olden, Yuppiz, Revivivien, eds.
New York City, 2004