THE BALLARD OF PAUL MCCARTNEY . . .

THE BALLARD OF PAUL MCCARTNEY

I remember once when I was not me

I could have been any one of three

Driving around until I hit a tree

Was it Tara Browne or was it me

The rumour was around well before I was dead

And before it was put inside your head

We fooled the masses to blind to see

There was so many doubles of Paul McCartney

My death was so ahead of the times

All the clues written between the lines

Even before I was supposed to have died

No one questioned that we could have lied

The question of DNA was so easy to explain

When we got another Paul to pop up again

But in the end - you could not just - let it be

This is the Ballard of the real Paul McCartney

Indiana Shaw . . . ; )

YOU WERE NOTHING SPECIAL . .

YOU WERE NOTHING SPECIAL

 

You’re were nothing special - just meat upon my plate

I used and abused you before slicing you up - then ate

Coming around here begging me to make you my wife

Once married - bad bitch - I stabbed you with my knife

Now your ground bones - are underneath the Marigolds

And you can sit in silence as the rest of the day unfolds

Odours of the Marigold leaves left your plot - dismissed

No one ever liked you- so you were - just never missed

I’ve put the flowers up - at our local garden flower show

No reason why not quite happy for you to bloody pose

Just to find my Marigolds had won the first bloody prize

O’ the bitch - just keeps giving - what a flaming surprise

Your jealousy was terrible and it just wasn’t in the clause

I had to finish you off for myself and for the better cause

On my death you can rest assured nothing will be found

Happiness found - once you had been put to the ground

Indiana . . .