Once I met a quite serious scientist
In the underground going east
On my way to a tryst in Bayleaf
They looked at me with googly eyes
And said I’d be perfect to study grief
There was a sadness in my gaze
A slowness in my hands
That’s all they needed to see the pain
Truly they were an expert
Yet said Science had much to gain
They ran all the tests they could
And long I lay and long I stood
They penned all the words I said
Elaborated many graphs and charts
About all those I loved who were dead.
In the end they had to let me leave
As they’d learnt all they could about grief
And what they found they couldn’t believe
And threw themselves under the tube to Bayleaf.
