A dozen different paper cards
A score of plastic things
Some markers to complete the set
Of board game offerings
We aren’t completely sure at all
What they’re supposed to do
Nor how a player ought to play
When turn passes to you
But persevere we can and must
Or else we shall be stuck
In getting through the final turn
Just captured in the muck
Of rolling dice and moving bits
And bobs, forget them not
Until the day has passed to night
And we have lost all thought
John Company