About this time, Nathan got really impatient about waiting for the adapter. But at least he's got a sense of humor.

Is it in the mail, on the ground?
On the back of a snail, going round and round?
Is it in the air, on a whirlybird?
Is it in your hair? Have you any word?
Is it undersea, in a submarine?
Perhaps on a golf tee? In a magazine?
Is it underfoot, overhead?
Perhaps we should look. It might be dead.
Is it in Red China? Defying a tank?
Behind the reclina? I've looked there, I thangk.
Is it in the car? Absolutely not.
Under the bar? Behind the gutrot?
Did it go to London? or go to France?
Perhaps its in my underpants.
Did it go to mars? To rove around?
Is it canned in jars? Hidden underground?
Did it go to Saturn, to see the rings?
Perhaps with a lantern we could find the damn thing.
On a 5-year mission? Or a 3-hour tour?
Mated to a transmission? Not mine, that's for sure.
Did it go to the Dark Side? Or Tatooine?
Sucked away by a riptide? Trapped in quarantine?
Did it elope to Vegas? Shooting craps on the strip?
Run away with the Circus? Fall in the cheese dip?
Did it don a disquise? Dress like a clown?
Did it meet its demise? Is it anywhere to be found?
Is it in Witness Protection? Dancing with wolves?
Does it fear rejection? Is it running with bulls?
Is it looking for love in all the wrong places?
Does it laugh from above at the egg on our faces?
Perhaps by shouting its name real loud
It'll answer our call and start coming round.

Turns out their machinist threw out his back, holding up the queue for quite some time. I responded in rhyme, but mine wasn't nearly so interesting.