h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

The voodoo that you do so well
Has gotten me under its spell.
I foam at the lips,
And swivel my hips,
And give off a very strange smell.

Is your body contorted and smeared?
Are you growing a tree in your beard?
Are you casting an eye
Down the chasm of sky?
Or like me, just incurably weird?

Mankind is noble and grand.
I'm eager to lend it a hand,
Though it gives me pain
To hear folks complain.
It's people I really can't stand!

Alternative facts? I have stacks,
Such as "I am too great to pay tax",
"If you show the least pity
They'll blow up your city",
And "Science is dreamt up by quacks".

I try not to use politics
As subjects for my limericks,
But Trumpty Dumpty's wall
May very well fall,
And then we shall all pick up sticks.

But it's irresistible!

I've alternative facts without end!
It's your duty right now to pretend
Every Muslim you know
Is a bloodthirsty foe
Whereas Vladimir Putin's your friend.

Saint Petersburg's treasures I've seen,
With art like a fairy tale scene.
Never go out alone,
Or your purse will be gone.
The pickpockets go for your green.

This snowstorm? A foot and a half.
Don't know if I'll cry or I'll laugh.
My car it will bury.
I cannot make merry.
The strongest of coffees I'll quaff.

I think I shall write something silly.
You see, my life's gotten quite hilly.
My yard now is frozen.
The flowers are dozin',
And snow seems to fall willy-nilly.

Improving things just makes them worse.
This may be an old gypsy curse.
These things become clearer
When viewed in a mirror,
Or maybe I mean the reverse....

The Duchess was said to be Dutch.
She spoke Hollandaise, but not much.
Her plates were faience.
Her tulips were dense.
Her cousins in Delft stayed in touch.

The sorceress waved her big wand,
And turned her hair's color to blonde.
Do blondes have more fun?
"Yes," she said, "Hon,
My suitors of me are quite fond."

If none of my stuff you inherit,
I urge you to just grin and bear it.
My furniture's old
And covered with mold.
You'd also take care of my ferret.

Fairness towards ferrets, I say,
Is just the American way.
They'll eat prairie dogs,
Several mice, and some frogs
Then go for a roll in the hay.

I met a man, old and uncouth,
Missing all but one big, central tooth.
"Without even two,"
I said, "What can you do?"
"Grin and bare it" he answered, forsooth.

I just got some rum from the Navy.
I used it to make some nice gravy.
I poured it on beans
And tart tangerines.
It's making my hair kind of wavy.

Let's talk of the birds and the bees,
And pollen that oft makes me sneeze.
I'm waiting for Spring,
When flowers are king,
And there is no chance of a freeze.

I'm famous for not very much:
Bad puns and lame verse and such.
The memory lingers
Of not enough fingers
To plug holes in dikes like the Dutch

Your poem's too good for a vogon.
I liked it, and so is my woe gone.
You really must rush.
All joy you must crush,
Or else charge a lot -- there's my dough gone!