The Rotten Robot
From Rotten Row
(For Spencer, aged six)

Ainsdale's Awful Android comes
To Birkdale once a year.
His chest is made of metal drums,
He meshes gear on gear.
His eerie eyeballs give a glow,
His axle spins beneath,
But the Rotten Robot from Rotten Row
Has oily cogs for teeth.

The Dusty Droid from Pussycat Lane
Has been in many fights.
His iron jaw is sharp as pain,
His eyes are blinking lights.
His clockwork heart keeps on the go
With twirled elastic bands.
But the Rotten Robot from Rotten Row
Has rusty claws for hands.

The Southport Cyborg thinks his thoughts
With chips inside his cranium.
His plastic skin grows plastic warts,
His spine is pure titanium.
His hard disk holds his tale of woe,
A mighty hundred megs.
But the Rotten Robot from Rotten Row
Has coiled barbed wire for legs.

The Rotten Robot makes a noise
Like circuit boards in flames.
He likes to look for naughty boys
And steal their Dreamcast games.
So keep your conscience pure as snow,
Make sure your bedroom's neat.
In case the Rotten Robot from Rotten Row
Comes clanking down your street.

K.M.Payne

If you've any comments on this poem, K.M.Payne would be pleased to hear from you.