I know it seemed like a good idea at the time. But, darling, I knew there was trouble bound to come. The postman drove a Caddy, A sunburned green, Rusted out land tug of a car. It seen to race across the ridge trailin clouds of dust and dogs. I knew there was trouble bound to come. Now, I saw the fact. The driver was a dog. The dog had a hat. The hat had a flat. It looked like a rat. The rat was on fire. Somehow I knew there was trouble bound to come. Now, that fire attracted the eye of a neighbor who, Turning away, Shook his head as he was heard to say, I don't wanna know why. Which confused the pig. That ate the mailbox. That contained the letter that was lost by the post office for 40 years. Happenin to have been written by Albert Einstein. Ha! Somehow I knew there was trouble bound to come. Now, in his declining years he had designed/devined a device from common household items, Which by harna**ing hitherto unknown forces in the universe could put a chicken in every pot, And make it so that everyone could live a long long time without any trouble at all. And in the process savin mankind from certain self-destruction, And enabling him to keep going more places forever. Mmmm, I knew there was trouble bound to come. Now, you understand, that whether or not this device would actually work was a matter of absolute conjecture, Seeing as how Mr Einstein had buried the only plans, And working model, In a hole in the ground. I knew there was trouble bound to come. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, In fact what the letter did say. And would the recipient, A Mr Tesla, Please go out and dig it up right away? But not to worry, Cuz even if this self-same letter was to be lost in the post you couldn't miss the two-foot high Martian standing there who promised to wait and not even budge for 40 years, If he had to, But then he really had to get going. And by the way take him a couple apples, Or something, Because he really likes fruit. Sincerely yours, Albert Einstein. Somehow I knew there was trouble bound to come.