At midnight in the museum hall The fossils gathered for a ball. There were no drums or saxophones But just the clatter of their bones; A rolling, rattling, carefree circus Of mammoth polkas and mazurkas. Pterodactyls and brontosauruses Sang ghostly prehistoric choruses. Amid the mastodontic wassail I caught the eye of one small fossil. Cheer up, sad world, he said, and winked – It’s kind of fun to be extinct.
