Eight

“To infinity and beyond!”

China’s lucky number;

The endlessness of the figure ate

Its way into my brain

Like a runaway train

Rolling along the track;

We’ll never end our journey

Never get to go back.

Spider’s legs;

And as sure as eggs is eggs,

And cows will e’er go moo

The figure eight,

I’d like to state,

Is my favourite number, too!

It’s always been a classic,

No other will compare,

It has a certain joie de vivre

And total savoir faire.

“Huit!” the French would ecrit,

“Otto!” heralds the Graeco-Latino

And “due!” and “neuf!” and many other a foreign numeric word

Don’t come anywhere near to “Eight!” that I have ever heard.

Not to say that the other numbers aren’t important, too;

For some of them are, probably, fun.

But, I have a problem trying to think, when pushed, just which one.

And, anyway, an eight is perfect, rounded and flowing

Whichever way along its sides and direction you are going;

You follow the curves and smoothly negotiate

The impeccable ratios of a proper number – eight!

So, you followers of three, six, or ten

Away with your nonsense,

I won’t say it again;

There are plenty of numbers of considerably lower rate

But, none loved by people… pirates… parrots… like my pieces of eight!

Pieces of eight!

Pieces of eight!