In Blooming Town a young man cast his fate
A TV show he'd wring from force of will
For lighting rigs and soundboards he'd not wait
His friends and he demanded not a frill
The substance of the thing, aye there's the rub
And substances and larks they'd oversee
But then one went toward mounts, one toward the hub
Of Cath'lic tweaks, and gaslit warm-night sprees
One day this gas and warmth plied atmosphere
The land was smote, its people were made sick
A man, impelled, returned to help rebuild
And try his hand at civic rhetoric
Another one he's brought into the show
She'll walk in footsteps, wander, learn, and grow
— posted by Erik Brewer on March 22nd, 2010