Rock Song.

(The genesis of this song was that it could be sung by Elvis Presley as a guest star on 'Star Trek'. I made it up in my head as I walked along the beach at Tidal River, Wilson's promontory, one night, just after Elvis died. If anyone cares.)

We had crawled into the bar,

near some far distant star,

and we felt like two buffoons.

For we crawled like snails and we dragged our tails

on the planet with the nineteen moons.

Chorus: Oh, the air weighs down like tar,

and it has a double star,

and the folk there float like balloons;

and I don't like space, but it beats that place

the planet with the seven moons.

We were shuffling up the street

like we had osmium feet,

when we heard those honky-tonk tunes;

and that music shrill means a good drink still,

on the planet with the nineteen moons.

Well, our brains were all awhirl,

and it sure looked like a girl,

and she said, "You spaced-out goons,

come into my arms, and learn the charms

of the planet with the nineteen moons!"

Her arms hugged us good and strong,

and the evening plugged along,

though we felt that there was something queer.

We were both hugged tight on her left and right,

and another hand was holdin' her beer!

But the mind tends to forget

with the roaring of the jets,

and a girl may look like a prune.

So she looked right fair in the midnight air

of the planet with the nineteen moons.

Oh, her eye was shining bright

with that come-hither light

on the side that was facing Jim;

and the one towards me was a white bawbee

made the lights in the bar seem dim.

She's a friend back at the flat

who would put out the mat,

if we only could see her home.

So we paid the tab and we called for a cab

as we parted from that catacomb.

Now a spaceman keeps in trim

as he shuttles round the Rim,

for the places that he lands upon;

but a guy with no weight goes a slower rate

on a planet where he weighs a tonne.

Well, she hummed a pretty song

as we shuffled along,

leaving shreds of our shoes on the floor;

but her mouths had turned sour when in half an hour

we were battling to reach the door.

We are waiting for the crane

which will take us on again

to our metal-caked cocoons.

We may meet again one day, but far, far away

from the planet with the nineteen moons!