Thankful Hank and the Guzzard cranknThe handles of a great machine.nnIt works with the force of a strung out horse;nThey’re balding from the heat of the thing.nnAn orphan in pearls brought them into the world,nAnd since then they’ve been up on that hill.nnThey heave and sway as they crank awaynFor dimes at a time lost in their minds...nnThe fear-abiding citizens found it wild and absurd,nSo they gathered their case against old Hank and the Guzzard:nn“These men and their machine are like a wooden spleen,nAnd they keep us up all night with their banging and their clanging.”nnThe mob heaved and swayed and the scheme was laid.nSo they marched up the hill and moved in for the kill...nnWhen they got home to their beds there claim this plague of dreadnThat something was wrong, but it could wait till the dawn.nnBut the morning never came; the sun was delayed...nForever the dark sky and no one knew why -nnThankful Hank and the Guzzard cranknThe handles of a great machine.