What Boaty imagining isn't considered pretty
You don't want to know where he's sitting
What he's imagining isn't considered pleasant
He's inappropriately using a pheasant
What He's imagining doesn't go with God
And is laughed at because it's odd
Into his life, his 'compooter' peers
Trying to insert morning fear
His head on constant swivel
His ears duly perked
When computers don't act civil
And decency is shirked
Boaty needed answers
For his computer
He finds them in love and pain
They both seem the same
He begins to view the sign-on strain
As some sort of weird GMEB game.