ALIGN="CENTER">The Alien Poetry Society - Vogon Poetry 1

 

Vogon Poetry

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE: As the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy states the Vogons write the third worst poetry in the entire universe. Memoirs of My First Command is earliest known example of this. This influential Vogon work has been translated and duly abridged so as not to cause any permanent harm to the reader. While this has come at considerable expense to the translator’s sanity, the most deleterious effects have been defrayed by using other people’s brains for the bulk of the translation. Only through the translator’s acquisition of some second-hand abduction technology has this project been at all possible. Of course the abductees whose brains have been used to translate the unabridged Vogon verse have no recollection of having done so. Their minds tend to simply suppress any memory of the incident or replace it with the memory of something more pleasant, like getting a full physical examination from a hostile alien race. The translator would like to sincerely thank the myriad of such contributors to this project. - C.G.

 

 

Memoirs of My First Command

By Vogon Patristic Snoog

 

I

Hark! The commander speaks:

Gather ‘round me gumbos and see my pleated girth.

It’s not for nothing I wear this kilt,

and you’d do well to remember it.

My flatulence bears no ill will so I leave it freely on the bridge.

Eyes a watering, barely breathing,

I’ll guide you ‘round the Pleiades!

 

No open flames! No open flames! As we pass a gaseous cluster.

Never shall we meet the nebulae, with their silent storms a quaking,

and stop for a minute or two for a pee-break taking.

Now me gumbos, me gasping brood, aloft our journey calls,

and if the air gets close up there, remember your on contract.

 

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