Transcribe
Translate
Fan-Atic, v. 2, issue 2, whole no. 5, September 1941
Page 8
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
FAN-ATIC 8 THE BALLAD OF THE THREE BOLD FANS. by Archer Cusp ((Editor's note: This is the peice that we mentioned in last month's editorial. We believe it to be Cusp's best so far. We would greatly appreciate any rating of it that you want to send. As mentioned last issue, any connection between this and the famous "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" is purely on purpose. -- the editors.)) Widner, Tucker, and Doc one night Sailed off through the Stratosphere Rising on rays of infra-light In a Heavenly Bathysphere. "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" The old moon asked the three. "There's a fan convention on Mars," they said, "And delegates are we, we three," Said Widner, Tucker, And Doc. The old moon chuckled and waved farewell, As the Bathysphere shot by, "These Fana-tics are Luna-tics, They're loonier far than I!" Loony or moony, the three sailed on Straight through the ether sea, Up to the blood-red gates of Mars As gallant as could be. Bold three, Widner, Tucker, And Doc. Convention badges were on their breasts As they jauntily alighted. The Martians cheered as the Earth-fans neared, And chorused, "We're delighted!" That was a meeting to dream of boys, A regular jubilee, Though the Martian wine was turpentine, Too hot for you and me, But not for those three, Widner, Tucker, And Doc. (Continued on next page.)
Saving...
prev
next
FAN-ATIC 8 THE BALLAD OF THE THREE BOLD FANS. by Archer Cusp ((Editor's note: This is the peice that we mentioned in last month's editorial. We believe it to be Cusp's best so far. We would greatly appreciate any rating of it that you want to send. As mentioned last issue, any connection between this and the famous "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" is purely on purpose. -- the editors.)) Widner, Tucker, and Doc one night Sailed off through the Stratosphere Rising on rays of infra-light In a Heavenly Bathysphere. "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" The old moon asked the three. "There's a fan convention on Mars," they said, "And delegates are we, we three," Said Widner, Tucker, And Doc. The old moon chuckled and waved farewell, As the Bathysphere shot by, "These Fana-tics are Luna-tics, They're loonier far than I!" Loony or moony, the three sailed on Straight through the ether sea, Up to the blood-red gates of Mars As gallant as could be. Bold three, Widner, Tucker, And Doc. Convention badges were on their breasts As they jauntily alighted. The Martians cheered as the Earth-fans neared, And chorused, "We're delighted!" That was a meeting to dream of boys, A regular jubilee, Though the Martian wine was turpentine, Too hot for you and me, But not for those three, Widner, Tucker, And Doc. (Continued on next page.)
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
