This is the story of Edison Stout
Who wouldn't check his batteries out.
His owner's manual left no doubt,
His EV dealer would beg and shout
But Edison would not check them out!
And when his GFI would trip
He just decided to bypass it.
His EV tickled him quite a bit -
His door grabbed him when he grabbed it!
Corrosion grew like some disease
Across the tops of the batteries -
A putrid rainbow, if you please,
Like yellow pus, green cottage cheese.
As wires turned to bluish grease,
The floor dissolved by slow degrees.
Batteries shot (just bought last Autumn!)
His ample range was now forgotten
Charging smelled like something rotten
The floor like mushy sauerbraten.
He'd still be driving it, no doubt,
If molten lead had not flowed out,
And acid geysers squirted about
Until, at last, said Edison Stout,
"All right, I'll check my batteries out!"
But alas, it was too late.
Corrosion covers the car, to date,
From the roof down to the license plate.
And Edison suffered a terrible fate
That's just too horrible to relate!
So, EV owners, do not pout,
When asked to check your batteries out!
With apologies to Shel Silverstein, who composed the poem,
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Who Would Not Take the Garbage Out.