Black Smith

The sides of the tent pushed in and out. There were folks within, there was NO doubt. And from inside the paper-thin walls came all sorts of sounds, as many recall. In the dark of the night though the din of rain, there were small whimpers of pleasure, or pain? Soft groaning, low moans, and so the sides moved, like a blacksmith's bellows to a squeezeboxes groove. The sides of the tent pushed in and out. There were folks within, there was NO doubt. And, just as the tent seemed ready to fly, from the blackness within there came a SIGH. Thunder and bright lightening marked the gates, as the motion inside and out seemed to abate? Long moments passed with nary a noise, then came a humongous snore without poise. The sides of the tent pushed in and out, There were folks within, there was No doubt. And the listeners within and those without, barely repressed their unruly shouts. "God!" said the denizens to left and to right. "God!" said the thunder and the light, "Put a cork in it, sock in it, we really don't care!" "Go to sleep! Quit that ruckus or we'll come over there!" "We appreciated the whimpers, even the moans. The groans were quite titillating, but the snore's JUST a DRONE!" "Put a cork in it, sock in it! We really don't care!" "Just GO to sleep, sleep soundly, Or we'll COME over there!"