Robert Puckerfish I call him Robert Puckerfish, He stumbles when he walks, I wonder if this strange swagger affects the way he talks, Because his tone shifts and crackles, While his eyes dart to and fro, As if there was a frog squirming in his throat. Sometimes, he just stares at the stars, Wondering how they survive from afar, Only providing for everyone else, When they never spend any light on themselves, They reminded him of himself. And When Ronald was in need of a friend, Someone to trust, to love, in whom he could confide, He'd lean over and await a smile from the lamp at his bedside, It's as if his world is a crazy dream, But no matter how crazy, crazy seems, Would you rather go crazy in Reality? What if your world was just an insane delusion, With never-ending optical illusions, You wouldn't want to be woken from your dream , I'm sure it'd be a bore, To wake up a washed up seaweed on Reality's shores.