I felt so ill at old Chernobyl,
That day in April as I passed through.
A charcoal grill was old Chernobyl:
Plutonium spilled on barbecue.

While winds over Europe sprayed
Dark clouds of debris,
The Soviets never made
One apology.

World news was shrill about Chernobyl,
Yet Tass said the kill was only two.
They'd built with skill at old Chernobyl,
Then tinkered at will, that midnight crew.

'twas state-of-the-art, they said,
In technology;
Some flaw in the plans they'd laid,
Could they not foresee?

There's fallout still from old Chernobyl;
'twill linger until my life is through.
'though we're apart, it's part of me still.
I've drawn my Last Will. Who can I sue?