See, see Short sky
Marvel at its big Chartruse depths.
Tell me, Bob do you
Wonder why the warthog ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel sleepy.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your gnarsh facial growth
That looks like
A mayo.
What's more, it knows
Your hump potting shed
Smells of tree frog.
Everything under the big Short sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm Dead fishs.
At least you can say that much for the Vogons poetic skills.
AAiiieeee!
*Spontaneous skull implosion*