BO DIDDLEY GOT GRAFT
And the corruption got no never
mind : the man in the white shirt
is pushing the old guy down. Looks
like a fight or it could just be a dance.
And there's no one else around. No
one else I'd rather watch go down.
Either. They'll be brimming about
this until cherry blossom time hits
the hay-wagon.
-
Here, lady, adjust my collar for me,
OK? You look pretty ice yourself.
Don't mind if I do. How's that go
again. I might be miffed if I missed
your muff.
-
But it's so hard to make a song out
of just nine words. Let me try it
later - with you - after the rest
have left. Always on the edge of
the catacombs - it seems that's
where everyone stays, all over
this land. Bo Diddly got graft,
but I've got the upper hand.
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