Googlehimmel (Pathetic Science)
Is it so? Have you not heard?
That nasty whiff ! It must be Turd!!
Yet I defy all men to assert
A turd in pie makes not dessert.
Is it full ? Is it rich?
It tends to make my nostrils itch
And so I hold by trusty fork
And fend off the marauding stork
Is it new? Hot off the press?
And will your fabled, coiled caress
Touch me here, touch me there
Explore beneath my party-dress
Is it life? But not as we know it!
Life redefined - we'll make it fit!
And even as my functions quit
I think I'll go and squeeze that zit
Is it moving? Look, it's wet!
Hit it again, we'll stop it yet!
When it's dead we'll sing and feast
And praise the dark ways of the beast
666 is the number that we dread
But it's death and destruction that keeps us fed.
But when the urge is satisfied
We check the eggs, they may be fried!
Can it be, this crazy luck?
I'm wading through an oily muck
Damn, I wish I brought my wellies
And some of mummies famous jellies.
I look for the lining of silver
Once mined from the side of a hill, far
Far away, by the swords of a thousand men
Who very nearly got on 'News at Ten'
Contributors: | Grayman, El Tel, The Agent Apsley, Spawn of Rippy, TG, Rip, Sauron, loop, snorty. |
Poem finished: | 27th August 1999. |