This poem is meant to be read aloud slowly and ponderously. The words don't mean much, it is the feel of the sound that am striving to achieve.


With a "BANG" and a "CLANG" and a "BONG" and a "CLONG" A cart full of bells, had ambled on. With a sway and a lurch, it came from a church, Where the burned out timbers were made of birch. Well a horse, of course, had pulled the wagon. But its pace was slow, and its tail was draggin'. Higher and higher, the burning fire, became the town's funeral pyre. With a "CLONG" and a "BONG" and a "BANG" and a "CLANG", each bell on the cart, solemly rang. 3-25-1995 Lowell Boggs