See, see the sacrificing sky
Marvel at its big neon green depths.
Tell me, Michael do you
Wonder why the shar pei ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel lethargic.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your gerndenduk facial growth
That looks like
A mayo.
What's more, it knows
Your kumquat potting shed
Smells of moss.
Everything under the big sacrificing sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm seafoods.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/vogonpoetry/lettergen.shtml
"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 members died of internal hemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council, survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos is reported to have been "disappointed" by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his twelve-book epic entitled My Favorite Bathtime Gurgles when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save life and civilization, leaped straight up through his neck and throttled his brain. The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England, in the destruction of the planet Earth." - Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, Douglas Adams
