Fugue 

Retinue of reluctant few arrived at start of rain. And their respect stuck in their throats as they approached the crypt. Consignment left beyond the deft did rightly deft comply. With rings of things unsung yet rung without bereft of style. Who though confused did not refuse to light sombre bomb by fuse. That set off soon wry concoction fugue a noisy one-off try. And weary tone deaf choir decided now's not the time to cry, while anthems peeled out reticent bell in 

hopes their recent rings foretell in honest tones the rattled bones and rancid incense smell.