Why knaves must we be,
If our number is three?
What a conundrum for us trinity—
Be we punished for our industry?
Because we feed you and light the night sky
Must we then be sentenced to die?
Threaten to catch us, and wonder we fly?
Even a bathtub was worth a try.
And if we make good on this escape,
There’s no coming after us—make no mistake.
There’ll be no sailing in our soapy wake.
Rub-a-dub-dub! We’re aloft on the lake.
Photo Credit: Flickr