Sent us a screed, all signs and magic numbers,
And what it signified is mystery still.
We flung them back a message yet more mazy
To say we weren't unravelling their own,
And marked it urgent, and designed
That it should reach them while they dined.
All night they toiled, till half the crowd were crazy
And bade us breathe its burthen o'er the 'phone.
But now they want it back—and it is missing!