The Man On The Moon Lost His Tangy. Poem by Michael Gale

There once was a man on the moon...
Who chewed a lot of leather soon.

He chewed and he chewed until he blew...
His jaws got locked and he did not know what to do.

He stuck his air hose where be no light...
He soon cut one bad, to his dismay his suit was way too tight.

He floated up high in a sewered smelling space suit...
This sight was not too keen but it made his nose wish he was naked and nude.

He bounced around from crator to crator...
He struck a jagged crevice and now we won't see him till too much later.

His space suit now allowed the gas to leak...
His pecker was hanging much out, which should ashame him, if anyone should spy and peek.

His safety cable has now snapped and made him adrift...
No more was heard from the man on the moon, He must of caught him self an inter-galactic-up-lift.

He threw out his thumb to a passing space ship...
The aliens tied him down upon a table, and disected of him many pieces, with a cut and a snip.

The moral of the story is don't hitch hike...
Or you'll go to pieces, wishing you were down on Earth, riding a bike.