by Nick Gisburne
We tie their tongues to bulging, bruised balloons,
And snigger as we watch them flap to fly,
But, swimming over cheese-encrusted moons,
The creepy people scold us from the sky.
“We’re not the deadly danger you believe,
Except, of course, for Dennis, who must die.
Embroidered emblems, stitched on every sleeve,
Present our proof, the data you deny.”
Astonished by their stitches, every stripe,
We drag the exiled aeronauts below.
Emboldened, steeped in sympathy, they swipe
Their bulging brains, to sniff what we bestow.
But sparing creepy people from a lie
Is more than bald barbarians can buy.
