It ain’t what you’d really call glamorous
When staphylococcus get amorous
But the methi-solution
That their evolution
Provides makes the nurses all clamorous.
It ain’t what you’d really call glamorous
When staphylococcus get amorous
But the methi-solution
That their evolution
Provides makes the nurses all clamorous.
Let’s go ask a scientist guy
To account for the blue in the sky.
The light wavelengths short
Get through as they ought
But it isn’t violet, though. WHY?
You can’t call, text message or page
A man in a metal mesh cage.
I think this might be
Why the whole UFC
Roster’s always in such a great rage.
When gazing past Milky Way stars
Or glancing behind you in cars
That object in view
May be Neptuney blue
Though it seems to be redder than Mars.
Long ago, in the dark void ethereal
A material quite magisterial
Squeak-popped into view—
It all comes from H2,
From CDs to sea hawks to cereal.
Antimony! What does it do?
Antimony! Don't have a clue.
Antimony! We
Know no use for Sb
And we're betting that neither do you.
I studied chemistry up to the age of 18, and I'm pretty sure that no teacher, textbook or exam paper I encountered ever mentioned antimony even once, except just to sit there like astatine, taking up another space in the periodic table that could have been used for adamantium.
I didn’t spend last night in bars
Or googling powerful cars.
I’m ashen of face
And a touch off the pace
Cos they’ve landed a robot ON MARS.
A prankster optician from Yuma
Would often (so sayeth the rumour)
Give patients a soaking,
Which practical joking
He liked to call “aqueous humour”.











