Michael Flannigan's invention of the Pornograph provided another outlet for Emily Chesley's creative vision. Although her novels were too lengthy to be "re-corded" on one of Flannigan's patented "Swillinders", Chesley's poetry was perfectly suited to the new technology. The first known example of the juxtaposition of Chesley's speculative ouevre with the neoteric medium is the rollicking yet sexually discomfiting space shanty "Those Alien Girls."

Those Alien Girls

I'm Fergus McSpear, a brave space cavalier, the jauntiest man on the Moon
My sparkling eyes 'neath starry black skies make faint-hearted maidens a-swoon
Some yearn for an Earth-lass to lavish with jewels: em'ralds and rubies and pearls
But I cannot forget the libidinous sweat of those succulent alien girls.

Let me say from the start, from the depths of my heart, that my tale is swollen with woe
My story is gory and lacking in glory, and I am now minus one toe
The foot-sucking creature I lured into bed stands out in my love memory
It seems that her suction mixed in with seduction just ripped the big piggy off me.

Those alien girls are quite stunning, your heads they are likely to turn
They speak many tongues that are cunning, and smear you with juices that burn
They'll cut you in two with their razor-sharp thighs, and turn a fine man into men
They'll smother you, mother you, suck out your lungs, then slime you again and again.

Two ladies that came from the Pleiades, a globular cluster of stars
Seemed hearty and healthy and terribly wealthy, just as I like 'em in bars
I couldn't decide which to see on the side, and which one to take for a wife
A pox on those sisters, they gave me large blisters, as well as the night of my life.

I met a nice girl on the rebound, a warm-hearted Milky Way chick
We talked about weather and dressed up in leather and handcuffs that closed with a click
I hung upside down for a week and a bit, then she finally let me go free
They're really quite ripper, those babes from the Dipper, but dangerous if you ask me.

For safety I headed to Venus, a planet that's so hard to rhyme
I chased a few lasses through nebular gases and had a spectacular time
In the very last bar in the quadrant, sat the girl of my dreams without doubt
Her skin was bright blue, a magnificent hue that inspired me 'til I passed out.

I woke up in bed with a monster, a brute who was covered in goo
She seemed rather odd with just one pseudopod, instead of the usual two
I pulled out my arm from beneath her blue bulk, then reached for my beast-hunting knife
She drooled for a while then the Blob gave a smile and told me that she was my wife.

That alien girl was my very last fling, I never chased spacebabes again
The blue-fingered Blob wears my marital ring, and keeps me locked up in this pen
I'm tied to a chain and my final refrain is learn from my story, my friend
Don't pick up a girl on an alien world, 'til you're ready to call it "The End."

--"Scholarship" by the Flyboy