In the nighttime to my mansion, came the Cheshire Cat thirteen times,
Lovingly it rubbed against my ankles, purring sweet and ancient rhymes.
And I heard the cadence of a puzzle, beautiful, bewildering, benign.
I sat wondering for quite some time, staring in the Cheshire’s eyes of amber.
And they told me: “Issue Gothic Why nICHt? on the 13th of December!”
So will do I, as I have been told by the yellow flickers in the eyes of gold.