You're making a witless lout of yourself
Can't you see, in your mirror of vanity
She said this, an' that, and finally she
Was as quiet and still as a cold body be
He wrapped her on up in a cranberry sheet
An erudite choice of colour I'd say
Carried her down by the fire escape
Sang a song by Joplin while spinning duct tape
Dropped her into a heap of damp leaves
Imagine the look on the public works man
Scooping her up on his fork lift hooks
I'd bet the ranch his hands and legs shook
It was almost two weeks before local police
Arrested this man on some uncanny leads
It seems that a man who lived one flight up
Loathed Joplin 'n came to his window in huff
And, sure enough he could see the large bag
Over the shoulders of the struggling man
Suffice to say there is no shred of doubt
The woman was right, he was a witless lout
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Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjR