Yesterday, as I stood before the now destroyed and much-despised gasworks in Steelhead City, I composed a little poem:
O gasworks, trees you did consume
Hated thing you were
With your gears and noise and saws
Amidst idyllic Steelhead green.
Those naysayers to progress
Adverse to soot
With their fresh air, clean living ways
A problem-solving "storm".
Such rubble, all about in ruins
Still now are your blades
Know all, there is only forward
Industry marches on!