The Cracking Time

Here’s some verse composed by Richard Bradbury, also known as R. Harrington Bradbury III, Millionaire, that commemorates the crack that developed in the big round table in the General Store last Tuesday, April 27.  For the full story read The Rooster Crows on the Rutland website.

The Cracking Time

A bunch of the boys were drinking it up at the Rutland General Store.
The java poured hot. Cake there was not, but cookies sustained the crew.
Coffee talk flew,  topics were few, but ideas were rife as the brew.
The table held ten, expanded and grew,  until there were a lot more.
The round thing was new, but was broken in, having hosted a dinner,
or two. It had set by the door a fortnight, or more, the topic of many a quip.
It’s yellow wood glew (glowed?) and it shined as with dew.
And it was the pride of the town.

But a fateful day fell and the thing raised all Hell,
When it let out a terrible smack.
Silence fell swift. All talk went adrift.
Wonderment struck with a whack.
The assembly was dumb, ’til fair Gretchen clumb
on the near side to survey the wreck.
Tight wood pores cried, “Jeez. Get off of me, please.”
And let go another loud whack.

The crack had traversed, then hit hard reverse,
Leaving a gap of a quarter of an inch.
So when you read this and wonder
Why the table went asunder in the year of twenty and ten,
You’ll know it’s not caused by  the wit, nor the paws, of the assemblage of Rutland’s Wise Men.

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