In this dungeon, dreary and rank
With surgeons tools, hooks and saws
And bits of animals, teeth and claws
A slab of old marble covered in blood
With needle and thread to sew if I could

In this dungeon,  dark and dank
With power and coils and much electricity
I'll strive to create life in my eccentricity
Limbs put together not quite in place
The brain is quite small, I've left too much space

In this dungeon, with rack and crank
This skin is like leather, shriveled and worn
The stomach is open the stitches have torn
With the flash of lighting down through the coil
That face, oh my God my pants I did soil

After that, I need to leave and get a coffee from Costa
But, just like Mary Shelly, I think I  created a monster!