What must one say,

  What must one do,

  “Certainly not,” says One

  “Then go and do,” replies Two.

  “No Idea,” a Third says.

  “I do what I wish,” adds a Fourth

  “Who commands Me to move?” demands a Fifth.

  “Would they dare to?” wonders a Sixth.

  “Cease the counting,” warns a Seventh.

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  “It is a joke,” adds an Eighth.

  “You’re continuing it,” shouts a Ninth.

  “Well I’m ending it,” growls the Tenth.

  “Not quite yet,” adds the Eleventh.

  “Not whilst the Night has only just begun,” whispers the Twelfth.

  “For I stride the skies as dread Thirteen,” speaks a Maiden with eyes of field stars.

  “And till Fell Fourteen comes this Hour is my Song.”

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