How Milton Saved Gruffwood

The town of Gruffwood spanned a mile
It sat upon a river isle
And on its banks sat Milton Brown
The smallest, quietest kid in town

There he'd whittle little sticks
Collect great piles of stones and bricks
Every moment he could spare
Without a doubt you'd find him there

Slow, or different from the rest
The folks in town were harsh at best
But he didn't care much what they said
Down to the banks he'd go instead

Reaching up into the sky
His little sticks had piled high
Awkward, crude and on display
He loved each one to their dismay

Then one day the kids from school
Who taunted all who were uncool
Followed to his special place
They threw the sticks and made him chase

"Milton, Milton, you're so dumb
Carve your sticks and cut your thumb
Selfish, selfish, give me one
Let's spread them out for everyone"

Milton hurried all around
Every one they tossed he found
So they threw one in the drink
And Milton dove, without a blink

Swept away, the current strong
The boys and girls, they ran along
But when they reached the island's end
He disappeared around the bend

A busy manhunt then began
They swam, they hollered, climbed and ran
They did not find him but could see
The new and grim discovery

Water rose high on the banks
All around the island's flanks
The ferry broke free in the flood
The isle was sinking fast in mud

Sandbags passed along a line
They prayed the island would be fine
But then the water rose too fast
They feared a breach would take their last

Then while walking in despair
A boy approached poor Milton's lair
Picked up a stick and soon he found
Into its side a number ground

He picked another just to see
And found it numbered differently
When combined he found they link
They fit together with a "clink"

Attaching numbers one through nine
They seemed with ease, to fit just fine
Others who began to grieve
Watched in awe, they couldn't believe

Many joined him in the cause
Each stick was joined with great applause
It stood atop a little ridge
Good heavens, could it be a bridge?

But soon with water on the shelf
The platform wouldn't support itself
A torrent raging just below
Some cried, "we're doomed, the town's too low!"

But then a splash befell the crowd
And then a voice was clear and loud
"The stones, throw them out you see
A great support it's meant to be"

All joined in and picked a stone
And to the river each was thrown
Not one boy or girl stood
Each brought the biggest one they could

Kerplunk the stones plopped caked in sand
And dropped atop the pile grand
Until they broke the surface when
The bridge was built right over them

When the last from town had crossed
Beneath the current, island lost
They searched, but Milton couldn't be found
Carved in a rock placed on the ground

"Remember Mr. Milton Brown
His bridge saved Gruffwood, all in town
He left no note, not even bones
What's left of him are sticks and stones"