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When he fell, he kept going down down down down down
Unlike Jack in the nursery rhyme, Tim did not break his crown.
The light was not great here, this is what he soon found.
It was difficult getting his balance, there were big stones around.

Where am I? He asked himself quietly, inside his head.
He was where most never want to be, for it’s a good place to be dead.
How will I get out? He wondered, the darkness gave him a fright.
He had bumped his head pretty badly, and could not find a light.

Something brushed against his arm, and he wanted to scream.
A serpent, a spider, a cobweb? This fall was a horrible non-dream.
It happened again, and he nearly lost his mind, and his footing.
He figured by the time he got out of this, he would be fighting sooting.

Not to worry young one, a voice whispered into his right ear.
You are not alone, for your great-great-great Uncle Chuck is right here.
Tim did not know he had an Uncle Chuck until he was released upon rescue.
I know of him, his father told him, we lost him from TB in nineteen fifty-two.

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