A poem about Bitcoin, progression and the order of things:
over the hill hear the clatter, as poor men hammer pins
the railroad is coming chuckle fat men holding gins
what a waste of sweat striking a steel rail through the whole of the land
a least a 100 men toil all day and blast rock, and shovel sand
the well to do folk in their ill fated Stagecoach pass by
then a rubble of the steam engine, the age of the steam train is nigh
Yours Peotically
Ptychadina
/ᐠ≗ᆽ≗ᐟ\