Russian Robot

In Russia was this robot made
It’s dilapidated and of the worst grade
In a post-communist era they constructed it
For a purpose unfathomable - perhaps to sit

But it’s vacuum tubes will glow and burn
And cogs and gears will start to turn
If only that something would happen
Which would make him drop this inaction’s weapon

His owner now, is completely perplexed
Sorrowed by a great loss - and utterly vexed
But the stupid piece of metal won’t even budge
And refuses to engage in his routine drudge

But his legs were perfect for bipedal motion
His hydraulic hinges need no magic potion
And if occurs the event, that’s long been due
He’ll go back to work - as good as new

And then one day all his logic concurred
For the long awaited event had finally occurred
When in the basement, where the robot lay
His violin, the owner‘s kid, began to play

And his eyes illuminated, lips forged a smile
For music was what he needed all this while
And the owner’s kid stood right there in awe
Confused and amazed by what he saw

And let this be a lesson to all you souls
With hearts as cold as immortal ghouls
For whenever your memory begins to rot
Remember how I revived the Russian robot.


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