The Winged Wizard of West Wallaby Street.
I heard he ate raw-potatoes, like apples,
He drank neat drain cleaner,
Moved like a swinging cannon-ball,
And spoke like a slick-tongued lizard.
They say he lived down an abandoned rabbit-hole
But not in a tenement, and he had webbed feet,
But never swam (Water made him sweat).
I don't think he had wings.
Rumour has it that he sliced his bread with a spoon
And poured bourbon into a bucket
To water his peace-lilies (They all died).
He couldn't've been a wizard.
The postman said he kept a caribou in his garden
And an elephant under his stairs,
Two crocodiles lived in his tear ducts
And he had a winged serpent that ate only its tail.
The weatherman told me his car was a write-off,
The wheels were all buckled,
He could understand the grasshoppers calling
And sang back through his tweeting nose.
A copper implied that he was packing
A nickel-plated pistol, which was always fully loaded
And always had the safety off
And the holster was well waxed.
I heard on the radio that he saw the needle and the damage done
To his purple tunic, so he learned to do needlepoint.
Mrs Oldbury was sure his soul could limbo under a millimetre
But a head the size of his wouldn't fit under a cloudless sky.
The church-going fireman swore he wore
Bright spandex trousers so tight you could tell his religion,
And his hat gave away the fact that
He didn't have a single hair anywhere on his body.
In the end, it was proved his shoes were buckled and polished,
And his diary said he wanted to be drawn in a smart suit.
He didn't live in West Wallaby Street,
And ended up, like all of us, drawn in a hearse.
Neil Young, Canadian Singer-Songwriter, was born on this day in 1945.
Stan Lee, American comic book writer and business-man, died today in 2018.