The Wreck of the Lab-o-ra-tory
by Larry Ballard of Carpinteria, CA
(with sincerest apologies to Gordon Lightfoot)
----
The legend plays on from old Ithaca town
Of the big place they call the White River
The woods it is said, never gave up her dead
When the skeptics of Science turned gloomy
With a load of our dough, several million or more
Than than Lab-o-ra-tory weighed empty
That good lab and true was a bone to be chewed
When the skeptics of Science came early
The bird was the pride of the proponent’s side
Coming out from the vault of extinction
As the Picidae go it was bigger than most
But it tasted like crow when well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of firms
Then they left with no truth but a burden
And later that night when the ARU sings
Did they know that the skeptics would hear them?
The wind in the woods made a double-knock sound
And a blue jay flew over while calling
And every man knew, as the Captain did too
That the skeptics of Science came doubting
The Captain wired in as the skeptics came in
And the good lab and crew was in peril
And later that night with no doubt in his sights
Came the wreck of the Lab-o-ra-tory
Does anyone know where the love of truth goes
When the frames turn the seconds to hours
The searchers all say they’d have made it o.k.
If they’d fifteen more photos behind her
They may keep it up til the rivers dry up
And they never will back down or flounder
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the lab and the crew with no doubters
The legend lives on in old Ithaca town
Of the bird that they say is the God Bird
The woods it is said never gives up her dead
When the skeptics of Science come early