At the start of the clock at the end of night
The Dawn lept up and caused a fright
The Shadow yelped a yelp so yelpish
That his yelp yelped with yelping anguish
The Shadow attacked with anger and spite
To destroy all the Dawn’s distressing light
They battled for eons, perhaps even years
An unpleasant business, full of glares and sneers
The war sent them far and wide
They flibbered over to Mount Snibble’s side
Which was squished to rubble and rocks
Terribly uncomfortable in their socks
Which the Dawn could not stand, you see
For he had a horrific gravel allergy
The Shadow knew of that secret condition
Otherwise only known by a clandestine physician
But the Dawn received no rash or spot
Only his memory, filled with rot
Lacking records of his loss and disgrace
Or any of the loathsome things that took place
Yet this attack-fest was not the first that passed
Nor would it be the last
For after every leap of the sun
The day ended in darkness for the Shadow had won