In Wylie's workshop, where tales conspire, A resin replica, with Masonic fire.
For hours one hundred and twenty-eight, he toiled with glee,
Crafting a skull, for all to see.
From the Lodge of Perfection, to Rose Croix's bloom, Carved with precision, in the secret room.
Knights Kadosh's council, in solemn delight, And Masters of the Secret, in Wylie's sight.
Albert Pike's portrait, a 33rd degree,
A tribute to Masons, proud and free.
In Wylie's creation, their legacy shown, A whimsical nod, to secrets unknown.
So here's to the Lodge, and its mystical might, In resin and rhyme, a Masonic flight.
A gift for your brethren, or display with flair, In Wylie's grasp, Masons declare!
