Hullabaloo's Vogon Poetry

Created Apr 24, 2002 | Updated May 1, 2002

Death Of An Apple

Oh, 'twas in the merry month of March

- Just before April and May -

When my little apple up and died

In a very very big way.

Some say I took it badly,

Some say I took to my bed,

Whimpering quietly and sadly

With sorrow in the head

But some say I took the thing out into the garden,

shocking the daffodils and crocuses and

blackbirds and such by thrashing it uncontrollably and madly

With hammer and wrench and bits of fence and

the branch of a tree (like Basil Fawlty) till its

plastic and chips were smashed and in bits and it

was really finally finally dead, finally.

(And some say that if I'd had a stake I'd have

driven it through its plastic heart most forcefully)

But now I've got a politically correct machine

The sort that goes at twice the speed of light but

is so concerned with checking itself and the net

for viruses and faults and downloads and upgrades

and stuff and stuff and other stuff that nothing

quite gets done on time

But at least and at last, I'm back with you now -

I'm finally back online.