The Grandladder Clock

My Gentlemen, I have done all it takes. Made fore my man, was a formless frame Worked by a wombsman, unplaned, clear of grain A brittle whittled acorn piece, I had his insides changed. Had him brained by belts and boy-bits, riveted and drilled; To the hands upon his face, wound round bruises I distilled; His carpentry I cornered; the correct prescriptions pilled ~ Milled, burnished, furnished yet - The Key could not be turned and the soul resisted it. That is til by will I discovered, under black and covered night, In the smothered tomb of my dead dad's dad, strange and ancient rites. Those underground, unstudied artistries, spurned rightly though they are, Good sirs - Nevertheless got my boy to tick. These were the measures what got my boy learned. And he crunched straight into manhood, his new teeth fistfully earned A good boy then, and a gentleman now No secrets kept from fellow men; I made him – such is how. My Gentlemen, With my methods though some have disagreed, None can deny that they demonstrably succeed. I broke a babe from a song shell, the bell of a flowerpot seed And locked him quick with a magic trick to the tick of our masculine breed. My Gentlemen.