So Big Ben, at midnight, chimed thirteen times instead
of twelve, alerting even Scotland Yard. How red
the faces of Ben’s maintenance men, those who keep
with pride the time on such a landmark! O to weep
when Ben chimed an extra chime, as a flippant foe
of time’s precise regularity! Odd, you know,
as all of London (even Bobbies) stood in pause
and even Watson of the yard held frown. The Cause?
Aye, there is the rub, because even to this day
after fine-tooth combs, perspicacity what may,
the gurgle of those wielding wrench both steel and brass
as well as Sherlock’s Holmes with magnifying glass,
Ben gave no reason whatsoever for the chime,
as if to say, “I am mystery (beyond time)
so take for granted what you may, but I demand
the ticking of respect, a modicum at hand
of honor and acknowledgement for all I do.”
Another chime rang out--whence Holmes then had a clue.
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