Wallace On Death Row - Poem by John Silkstone
There’s a famous place called Blackpool
That’s noted for fresh air and fun
However I’m waiting on death row
For I’m to be shot with a gun.
A Lancashire lad called Albert
Stuck a walking stick into my ear,
I asked him politely to stop it
And go for a walk on the pier.
But Albert being a Ramsbottom
He took no notice of me
Still poking me deep in the ear
Saying, “Oi, I’m talking to thee.”
I will not let him annoy me
For I’m starting my yoga trance,
I’m oh so calm with my karma
I know that he hasn’t a chance.
Now the wife, she’s getting angry
And building up quite a rage.
Reaching out with her claws
She drags Albert into her cage.
Now that my yoga is over
I’m back in my cage all-alone,
I open my eyes and I’m shocked,
To see a blooded cap and a bone.
I got the blame for eating Albert
Though the wife she cooked up the plan
I know, I couldn’t have ate Albert
For I’m a vegetarian.
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