He was an engineer
At a large company.
He used to file paténts
With his tech wizardry.
Employees everywhere delighted in his name.
He didn't know the truth:
That they all thought him lame.

But then he got a call,
P.H.B. on the line
Said the department team
Of Research and Design
Now didn't need his help - that they were doin' fine.
His new assignment was:
Fly to Elbonia.

And as the plane took off he tried to hold on tight.
He had to grip the wing;
It was a third-class flight.
"Much better this," he thought, "than with a catapult
Or by that sling shot thing,"
Reflecting with a jolt.

It was the brownest land that he had ever seen.
Under a shroud of mud unfailingly waist deep.
And as he waded through he looked around the place
Where was his darn hotel? Somewhere in Elbonia...

But after days not few
It wandered into view:
The project's factory where he would make a change or two.
And now a month has passed; the prototype's unfurled.
His scheming dog back home
Has made a play to rule the world. (He always does.)
(Hail, Dogbert! King Dogbert!)

And then he finally left with all his mud-stained clothes.
But he should keep them packed up in
His dorkage tubes;
Dilbert will be back again.

Copyright 2005-2013 | Mike Urbancic | urbancic@gmail.com | Last updated 16 Jul 2013