A DEEP-RED-SUN'S-
SLEEPY-EYE
Pinkened are the clouds
by the sun's red-eye.
Soft and free they sail
across the crimson sky,
the sinking sun about to close
on sand-and-sea, like-a-rose.
CALL-HER-THE-DRUNKEN-
CLOWN
Talk about crazy, ah talk about crazy,
the whole episode was bananas.
The girl looked just like a zebra,
a piss-pot pony in striped pyjamas.
Drunk and down on all fours
she was giddying-up round the room
and circling a single pound coin
that she though was the glistening moon
being reflected in a watery-pool -
and not a small spilt beery-pool
there on the kitchen's lino-floor.
Oh yes she appeared a circus-fool.
And she doubless felt a circus-fool
when finally waking to the morn.
Place a dunce's-cap on her head.
See girl? Now you're a unicorn !
A-DOWN-LOW-TONE-
IT-IS
They're lowering the Tone,
oh they're lowering the Tone.
The priest in his collar
is giving a dog a bone,
and the widow in her weeds
is letting it be known -
now her husband is gone -
she'd like callers at her home.
The chap wasn't up to much,
and he's being lowered down.
Ah yes her husband Tony
is being buried in the ground.
When the funeral is over
to her house will be bound
the priest, the male-mourners,
and that sure-frisky hound !
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