ramblings and things

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Annan of Skye

Annan was a Scott, a man of Skye
Who to relieve the boredom of his day
Wrote his weekly Int report
In his own unique way:
He used a little drawer to help.
Carefully placing his material there,
Throwing in a lighted match then
Closing the drawer to reduce the air:
Unhurriedly and precisely
Counting slowly up to ten, no more
Then in his measured time
Re-open his composing drawer.
The charred reports he threw away
Unmarked stuff was used and went
Every week to the various places
Our reports were generally sent.
Eventually ending up on the desk
Of the duty intelligence man.
I often wondered what effect this had
Annan's unique compilation plan.
Did the cold war
Last longer than it should
Did Annan's censorship
Do any good
Did the man in London
Scratch his head
At the unique report
That he read
Did the man in the Pentagon
Make some decisions wrong
Nor knowing from where he was sitting
The one or two facts may have been missing
Or was it as we often thought
All our work was for naught.
Whatever- Annan was never caught.
I'll never forget his cheeky grin
When he decided to let me in
On his own very unique way
Of relieving the boredom of his day
Before returning every night
To his quarters, family and wife
And his bottle
Of waters of life.


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Annan of Skye