Half 10 – the hands are frozen there
But in the Tiny Town, no one’s aware
Of clock, or bells, they've other cares.
Here come creators from far flung parts
Lovers of Beauty, employing all the arts
For social healing, let us make a start
In Winnie Winthrop's Tiny Town,
With a homeopathic remedy of great renown.
To it procure, go UP, not down
To 515, Tiny Town's there
And so's the clock; now do you dare
To step inside, and so prepare
A magical caper-so Epic! Grand!
It's tale will be told across the land
To put it all in motion, YOU are the hand.
There is much work to be done, of that we're sure,
But first you must come and take the cure
This bottle and bell are just the lure.
Good things in threes, even this ditty
Arriving by magic, in this magic city.
No Art without Magic, no Magic without Art!
Welcome to TinyTown! Now play your part!
Once upon a Time a Pilgrim stepped onto State Street, to find a stopped clock atop a grey granite spire, in a Tiny Town.
The rest, as they like to say, is History. . .
Be you Knave or be you Knight, as sure as the net finds its finny friends, and as unwavering as the Harpoon is that finds its mark within the Whale, this tale within your flesh shall lodge, dear Reader!