(A Requiem For The Twentieth Century)

Come mourn for a century sadly cut short,
That has ended before its time;
With a year to go, it is now de trop,
Cast aside while still in its prime.

A victim of MHS disease,
(Millennium Hoax Syndrome),
Ingloriously it is now history
And a relic like Carthage and Rome.

It goes to its grave yet unwept and unsung,
Now discarded and quickly forgotten,
Just a stereotype of media hype
And a fate undeservedly rotten.

Let us drink to that century hustled off-stage,
Number Twenty, its course not yet run;
Twenty-One may be great but we'll just have to wait,
Since it's now prematurely begun.

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