Half a thousand years ago,
As I was walking slow,
A demon passing by said to me:
I wish you could be around to see
What will become of ‘your’ pine trees
And I asked him
What happens,
(As all people would want to know)
What happens to the buffalo?
What happens to the men and women,
The snake - beavers and the gnomes?
What happens to their little homes?
So I let him get inside my head,
(A “scape”,
I think he said),
And as he was having quite a lot of fun,
He caused quite a great alarm,
And intending,
I assume
To cause a great amount of harm,
He shouted,
(Almost like he was having fun):
In ten thousand years
The world will be done!
Folded in on itself,
Just like it begun!
In ten thousand years,
You will all be dead!
Tucked away and forgotten
In your snug wooden beds
Catching his breath, he continued again:
And what will be left,
In this world that is gone?
Why,
me,
My dear child,
Bill Cipher,
Age ten thousand and
One