my name is Robert, go by Bob – more names should add but can’t.
It is the truth – I swear to you – I don’t make up this stuff,
to be a Robot – all in all – might not be that tough.
For joints that creak with pain all day – I would just fix with grease,
for lines and wrinkles – we’d just buff – my age it would decrease.
My pencil would I stuff with lead and look around the land,
for all the female Robot’s there to walk with hand in hand.
For dents and dings I would not care about a single one,
I’d need no sleep – I could go on – from moon to setting sun.
I would not fear of getting old or what that’s all about,
My only care that warranty and when it would run out.