How the Mark Stole Music

## Words

Every hiker in Yorkshire liked music a lot,

But Mark, who sat at the checkpoint, did NOT!

Now Mark hated music! The whole rhythmic feeling!

When he hears the beat drop it just sends him reeling.

It could be his ears weren't working just right,

It could be his headband was tied on too tight,

But I think that the most likely reason of all,

May have been that his brain was two sizes too small.

Whatever the reason, his ears or his brain,

Listening to music sure filled him with pain.

He stood there at his checkpoint, hating the songs,

Staring down at the camp where he didnt belong.

For he knew every camper who were sat in their tents,

Were playing their music and banging their heads.

"And they're charging their speakers!" he snarled with a sneer,

"Morning is coming, and soon they'll be here!"

Then he growled, with palms of his hands growing sweaty,

His knees became weak, his arms became heavy,

"I must find some way to stop their music already!"

"I hate it so much!" Mom's spaghetti.

For that day he knew all the walkers and hikers,

Would wake bright and early, rowdy and hyper!

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise!

Noise! Noise! Noise!

That's one thing he hated! The NOISE!

NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

They would listen to Eminem, Tupac Shakur,

Fleetwood Mac, Kodak Black, ABBA and more,

Bob Marley, Talking Heads, and Kanye West,

Fat Boy Slim, Deep Purple, Drake and the rest!

And THEN they'd do something He liked least of all!

Every hiker in Yorkshire, the tall and the small,

Would stand close together, with arms and legs swinging.

With speakers in hand, the hikers would start singing!

They'd sing! And they'd sing! And they'd SING!

SING! SING! SING!

And the more that Mark thought of this whole jamboree,

The more that Mark thought "I'll make this history!"

"Why, for fifty-three years I've put up with it now!"

"I MUST stop this music from coming! But HOW?"

Then he got an idea! An awful idea!

"I know just what to do!" Now Mark laughed in his throat,

And he made a quick IED and a remote.

And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great trick I've pulled!"

"With these bombs and these vans, their songs will be culled!"

He went down the mountain himself, the old nonce,

Called out to stir them, but there was no response.

He parked his white vans along the sea wall,

Each van contained 900 pounds of C4.

For the campsite on all of its sides was surrounded,

By the sea, which was choppy, and raging, and pounded

Against the sea wall, which stood strong nonetheless,

Although Mark's evil scheme would put this to the test.

It was quarter past dawn, every woman and man,

All asleep in their tents while he parked the last van.

He locked up the doors, set the fuses, and ran,

As fast as the parents of Maddie McCann.

3,000 feet up! At the site of his station,

He waited and watched from his distant location!

"Would you like some water?" he snickered out loud,

"Here's your Fucking water!" he screamed.

"They're waking up now! I know just what they'll do!"

"They'll be packing their bags for a minute or two,

They'll be making their breakfast and having their brew!"

"Then all of a sudden they'll hear a loud bang,

And they'll rue the day that they ever sang!"

"The sea walls will fall, creating a torrent,

They'll scream when they see this sight most abhorrent!"

"That's a noise," Mark did snarl, "That I simply MUST hear!"

So he paused, and then Mark put his hand to his ear.

And he did hear a sound rising over the ground,

It started out low, then it echoed around.

But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound was euphoric!

It couldn't be so! But in him, something clicked!

He listened in awe! Mark popped his red eyes!

Then he shook! What he heard was a shocking surprise!

The rhythm was sacred! It shook the whole place!

But what could it be? None other than Coldplay!

He hadn't stopped music from playing! It PLAYED!

Somehow or other, it played just the same!

And Mark, with his walking boots stuck in the mud,

Stood puzzling and puzzling: "Why is this so good?"

"The melody is blissful! The rhythm sublime!"

Connor and Finn are still making this rhyme!

And he puzzled and puzzled, but he hadn't remembered:

The bombs were on a timer which was left unattended.

"Maybe the speakers and their banging songs, Do have a place in my head to belong!"

And what happened then? Well... in Yorkshire they say,

The sea walls were too weak and were blown away.

And the moment the walls gave way to the flood,

The campers tried running as fast as they could.

But they were too slow, too slow for the water,

Every man, woman and child fell victim to the slaughter.

Before we finish this tale, here's one final assertion:

Mark killed himself.

The end.