Meteor

O bringer of sudden death in the night,
whatever possessed you to cut off our light?
Whoever's responsible for our sad plight
ought to be holed by a meteorite.

It's a wonderful feeling to float round the ship,
to swim in null-gravity; nauseous, sick,
to watch all loose property sucked through the rip
and find, to your horror, you're losing your grip.

With relief, you discover your body won't go.
Obesity saves you from drowning and so
one S.O.S. call and you're rescued, you know,
but how do you switch on the ship's radio?