Tones are bit in rhymes. Words are laced with rhythm; Races are led by organization Yet, fears are engulfed in man. Greed breath its air on herds, Fully in awe of space, Financial discreet and loans, all wired in fierce. Till it met its Waterloo. Alexandra thought was wide and far, Filled with ambition and power, All were recorded in scroll, slate and earth. But all was gone in days and flame. The little Shepherd of our town, Remember times and days, When you sailed through power and phase, All to serve our greater aims, Which is still unknown, If it's a success or failure. Tomorrow is our day of reckoning, Where we met our waterloo, Faced with horror and succor. Filled with fears and tumor. After falling of glory to story. With its Shepherd in awry.