When all the poets died br no one noticed they had expired br the world continued turning round br and the credit crunch it crunched them br to the economic ground br the birds continued to sing their songs br the moon waited in the the light br to shine on all when it gets dark at night br but the music soon got stale br and thoughts just stayed br on well worn rails br when all the poets died br no one really cried br as if the world it really cared br to be missing a few simple words br from poets that were no longer home br to write of what is not yet known. br br When all the poets died br some others thought they'd try br to write some verses down br and on the internet they'd circulate them round br and chat, converse about the verse br that most resembled what poets write br deeply in the moonlit nights.