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There's a wandering man who's no time for a wife.

There’s no place for a family in his busy life.

     He doesn't make friends - this pitiful soul -

     For travelling the globe is his only goal.

 

His life’s very different from your life or mine.

He’s no time to chatter, not even to dine.

    He works without rest from morning till night.

    In his active life there’s no time for delight.

 

He rambles around with no need for a bed.

And he has little need to lay down his head.

    God’s not in his life.  He does not need church

    As he circles the earth in one almighty search.

 

Yet most folk have met this mysterious man

 Who works for us all just as fast as he can.

       He soaks up the words in his language caboodle

       And everyone loves him – poor dear Mr Google.

 

                                                         

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Copyright on all my poems

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* Caboodle:  a lot - ie lots of words.  Mr Google

understands what you're searching for, for certain.

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