-.. --- - -.. --- - -.. .- ... .... (Dot Dot Dash)

Version A:

Di Dot; Di Dot, 

Clicks the sound of the metal tongue,

Di Dot; Di Dash!

The tongue begun to hum.

Hum goes the tongue of a machine without a lung,

To bellow out the verse like Brian's voice,

No not can this system decree; never has it sung, 

For the sound of metal finger, taps the word of choice.


What am I among these ones so young,
Have their hats that they have flung,
Among the land that requests my hand,
That brand me with no land.


So Di Dot; Di Dee,
Ticks my heart in your hand,
Di Dot; Di Dee,
Ticks my love to thee.

Version B:

Di Dot; Di Dot, 

Clicks the sound of the metal tongue,

Di Dot; Di Dash!

The tongue begun to hum.

Hum goes the tongue of a machine without a lung,

To bellow out the verse like Brain's voice,

No not can this system decree; never has it sung, 

For the sound of metal finger, taps the word of choice.


What am I among these ones so young,
Have their hats that they have flung,
Among the land that requests my hand,
That brand me with no land.


So Di Dot; Di Dee,
Ticks my heart in your hand,
Di Dot; Di Dee,
Ticks my love to thee.

This is written in the metaphorical viewpoint of a telegraph, presenting the idea of a poem writing a poem.