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Pity Richter ©

Baba
Stewarton, Scotland
2005

Spare a thought for Richter, for the creation of his scale
He created such a monster to describe a fault-line fail
As a magnitude in numbers provide a quick and simple guide
The greater is the number is the better you should hide

Itís really rather simple, itís not hard to understand
The bigger is his number means the bigger shake to land
See, a one is just a gentle sway, a disaster is a nine
Youíll end up dead at one end: on the other youíll be fine

I pity poor old Richter, would he do it all again?
His name became immortal and synonymous with pain
Iím sure that he would take it back, this thing that he created
His numbers are a constant link of how disaster should be rated

Richter is a victim too, trapped in each and every tremor
His name is always found among the casualties of terror
Iím sure, upon reflection, heíd prefer he were unknown
But cursedly, we all know him, sat upon disastrous throne

Iím sure he was a noble man: he was a wizard not a warlock
His grading of the seismic shifts that shake our very bedrock
So please donít blame him, itís unfair, I plead the cursing halt
The one thing that I know for sure, an earthquakeís not his fault


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