A twitch in the table
It wobbles and creaks
It groans as unable
And claims it’s antique

The old ways were writing
Or so I suppose
For forefathers bright in
Their wondrous prose

On eldest love letters
The romance and flair
The glory go-getters
Of sax and on snare

Could yet we be careful
Come ash on the trend
For while we can tremble
It’s never the end