The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big write they called ‘Tea Debacle’
The write, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the days of November end early
With a load of word counts many thousand times more
Than the Great Tea Debacle weighed empty.
That good book and true was a bone to be chewed
When the Teas of November came early.
The tea was the pride of Castle Debacle side
Coming back from some blog in Wisconsin
As the big contests go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and three captains well seasoned
Concluding some words with a bunch of plot turns
When they left fully writing till winter.
And later that night when the ship’s bell rang
Could it be the new breeze they’d been teasin’?
The words in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And the graph she broke over the railing
And every one knew, as the captains did too,
T’was the witch of Debacle come stealin’.
The dawn came late and The End had to wait
When the Castle Debacle came slashin’.
When December came they were bloggin’ in rain
In the face of the befuddled crewmen.
When January came, the old cook came on deck sayin’.
Fellas, it’s too rough to plug in.
At the dawn of New Year a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it’s been good t’read ya
The captains wired in they had writers come in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night with PC lights outta sight
Came the wreck of the Good SS Penman.
Does any one know where the love of Plot goes
When the PC’s turn pages to labor?
The readers all say they’d have made Shipwreck Bay
If they’d fifty more pages behind her.
They might just cramp up or they might write it down;
May end up tearing paper to pieces.
And all that remains are the words and the names
Of the novels and plots and teas steeping.
The Debacle rolls, and the good writer sings
In the rooms of her hand-written mansion.
Old Castle she steeps like a young man’s tea dreams;
The PCs are keyboards for sportsmen.
And farther below our new Castle you’ll know
Takes in what the word counts will send her,
And the roller balls go as the writers all know
With the Teas of November remembered.
In a musty old hall Castle minions they prayed,
In the Penmanship Writer’s new Castle.
The church bell chimed and rang out word-count lines
For each man on the good SS Penman.
The legend lives on from the Debacle on down
Of the big ship they call ‘SS Penman’.
The Debacle, they said, never gives up her dead
When the Teas of November come early!