Has Anyone Seen Miss Robson?
Wherever can she be?
There sits a frozen monument its details crisp and clear –
Miss Robson at the steering wheel, her face a mask of fear.
It started on a normal day, after a trip to Asda,
Miss Robson, having worked her shift, was getting in her Mazda.
Just then, up loped Professor Leek, a large bag in his hand.
‘My boot’s quite full, please take this home.’ She bowed to his command.
It wasn’t drugs or contraband nor anything illicit.
Professor Leek would never seek in crime to be complicit.
In fact she was in love with him. Of this, he little knew,
his cosmic mind to girls was blind — he didn’t have a clue.
But what was in that wretched bag? That thought stuck in her gullet,
For after hitting speed-bump-three, she shot off like a bullet.
She exited the atmosphere — began to feel quite light,
and seeing she would need the air, she wound the windows tight.
Straight at the Moon her car was aimed. She landed with a thump
into the Sea Tranquillity. Her spirits took a slump.
And gradually the air ran out. Miss Robson breathed her last.
It wasn’t nice, blood turned to ice, and skin to alabast.
So now she’s like a beacon bright, beyond our atmosphere,
just like a diamond on the Moon — or maybe, like a tear.
