Deep, so deep in Vogan’s sea
She puts her feet in rotting brie
And rise though the bile green tea
To take another love bite of thee
The pain, the pain, I love so dear
Is not so deep to bleed the rear
But gnaws to bone above the ear
To bare my skull and bring a tear
Oh how I love thy bile green tea
That makes a mush of thee and me
And on thy rotting floors of brie
The soda crackers are smeared with chee
And makes me long for a nice long pee.
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! MORE TO COME! STAY TUNED!
“Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe.
The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem “Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning” four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos was reported to have been “disappointed” by the poem’s reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled “My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles” when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save humanity, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.
The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paul Neil Milne Johnstone of Redbridge, in the destruction of the planet Earth. Vogon poetry is mild by comparison.”
― Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy