Limra-pakki

In a future where sunbeams abound, Every rooftop will harvest them round; But the moon filed a plea: “Save a night shift for me!” Now the grid pays for darkness by pound. There once was a turbine at sea, Who declared, “All the wind should be free!” When the breeze sent a bill, It stood perfectly still— For the charge was a shocking gust fee. Soon our cars will be fueled by the tide, With the moon as their pull-along guide; But one driver cried, “Wait— My commute will be late!” For the ebb took his hatchback to hide. In the future, green hydrogen glowed, As it lightened each factory’s load; But a chemist turned pale: “It escaped from its pail!” So the fuel of tomorrow just flowed. There’ll be batteries vast as a hill, Storing sunlight for nights cold and still; But they hummed with delight, Then went out on strike— They demanded a positive fill.