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The sound of a far boat wailed up from the lake shore

‘March!’

Grandhtat their heels Don, someone threw a torn telephone book off the Green Town Hotel roof When the confetti hit the bricks the parade was gone

At the lake shore fog moved on the water

Far out, he could hear a foghorn’s mournful wail

And a pure white boat looed the pier

Doug stared ‘How coot no name?’

The ship’s whistle shrieked The croarplank

‘You first, Doug!’

The band dropped a ton of brass and ten pounds of chimes with ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,’ as they thrust him on the deck, then leapt back on the dock

Wham!

The gangplank fell

The people weren’t trapped on land, no

He was trapped on water

The steamboat shrieked away from the dock The band played ‘Columbia, Gem of the Ocean’