Dr Frankenstein, I presume?

Pieced together from the tomb

The tower: lightning strike, then – BOOM!

You were alive

 

Out of death’s shadows chill you loom

Force the sweeping rush of your new broom

Bolt just visible in evening’s gloom

You were on the A5

 

Jobs for all includes those whom

Dr Frankenstein will exhume

To road sweep as cars vroom

Will you learn to drive?

 

Dragged from graves to darkened room

So your life of sorts could resume

Ripped from death’s sweet peace via Shelly’s womb

And he called you Clive

 

Earth no longer light and gloom

As you sweep towards your doom

You long for a chance to re-entomb

Meanwhile, you survive.