Alfred Einstein’s gone insane
he’s up in heaven with no brain.
He left it down on earth, they say,
in a posh museum, on display.
How’s he going to manage now
twanging his harp just anyhow?
Not at all like times before:
violin, piano, Patrick Moore.
How’ll he figure complex sums
while vapid angels scratch their bums?
So bored they holiday in Hell
where Lucifer from grace once fell.
Alfred Einstein’s totally bonkers
up in heaven playing conkers.
God has left for a parallel world
with holy scrolls and cloak unfurled.
Alfred Einstein’s lost his mind,
old calculations left behind.
But genius through space is heard
and E forever MC squared.