Classic Poem

They talk about them in the clubs, and in the public bars,
They talk about them in the scrubs, those messages from Mars
(Not messages from missuses that keep the kiddies clean,
Not messages from mothers, but the planet Mars, I mean).

They puzzle scientific gents as well as common blokes
(The latter are inclined to think it's one of Billjim's jokes).
Some read their answer in their beer, some read it in the stars,
But none have read their answer right, those messages from Mars.

But I, a poet and inspired, could read them instantly
(Although at first Hean's manager would not believe in me):
Those messages from Mars that come by shortest of short cuts
Are simply, " Send some Heenzo, and Hean's Nerve Nuts. "