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.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.“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.”