(Dedicated to the behind-my-back tittle tattlers; another "Clarksonite" old song codged up to look like poetry.  And hoping that life mirrors art on May 8th)

Dave don’t live here anymore;

Don’t feel sorry – he’s not so poor;

Though he weasled and he lied

He’s got nowhere left to hide;

Dave don’t live here anymore.

Dave don’t live here anymore

And now George has left next door;

Though they bleated and they cried

There’s new occupants inside;

Dave don’t live here anymore.

On yer bike now Master Dave;

Say “Bye-bye” and give a wave;

Toodle-pip you nasty toff,

Bottoms up, Dave, now piss off;

Wait a minute – here comes Dave!