Professor Beaker stood in line, his passport in his hand,

with Igor right behind, and Spambot too,

Tibetan was a language that was hard to understand,

the wise professor knew just what to do.

The customs man said something but old Beaker said: "No, wait,

I want you to repeat what you just said,"

he had the Spambot standing by his side there at the gate,

and pushed the "translate" button on its head,

"What is the purpose," Spambot said, "of you three coming here?

If business is the reason, you must pay,"

then Beaker stared right at the clerk and said: "I made it clear,

we're going on a skiing holiday!"

Formalities were quickly finished, visas stamped and passed,

but then they had to wait, it seemed so rude,

poor Spambot had to have a special check, and he was last,

emerging with a stamp that called him "food."

The snow was softly falling as they walked out in the gloom,

and hurried to their hotel down the block,

with Spambot to translate they soon were settled in their room,

and Beaker set the robot's cyber clock.

"We'll have to get up early, go downtown and buy some gear,

I've set his clock to wake us early morn,

I haven't needed snow shoes since the last time I was here,

and left them halfway up the Matterhorn!"

Poor Igor dreamed of snowmen, and he woke up with a fright,

Professor Beaker said: "It's as I feared,

we're deep in trouble, Igor, something's happened in the night,

our Spambot has completely disappeared!"

They hurried out to search as Beaker told him with a frown:

"The enemy was right there on our trail,

I should have played it safe and put us somewhere out of town,

we need our Spambot - otherwise we'll fail!"

They walked around for ages searching all the Lhasa streets,

then suddenly young Igor dried out: "Look!"

Right there inside a truck entitled "Lhasa's Finest Meats"

their Spambot friend was hanging from a hook!

While Igor drove the van, old Beaker freed their robot pal,

"Let's hurry up," he said, "don't use the brakes,"

they quickly grabbed their bags and paid the bill at their hotel,

still reeling from the thought of robot steaks.

They promptly bought their camping gear and headed out of town,

and soon left Lhasa City far below,

they ditched the truck and hiked until the sun was going down,

snow-shoeing quickly through the mountain snow.

"We'd best make camp," old Beaker said, "I think we've had enough,

we've done quite well, especially at this height,

it's great we have a robot, who can carry all our stuff,

I feel like I could carry on all night!"

The tents were soon erected and they ate a hearty meal,

then settled down inside their sleeping bags,

as Igor dreamed of airplanes and the Spambot dreamed of veal,

a shadowed figure watched them from the crags.

The Himalayas - such a challenge even to the best,

our trio's job is perilous, no doubt,

will Beaker, Igor and the robot triumph in their quest?

You'll have to come back here and you'll find out!

 GO TO BEAKER FILES #5