ODE TO JOHN THE HAT
(John 'The Hat' Keenan is a drug smuggler in our village. He imported, without licence, illicit Indian Viagra. Well, he says they were anyway; they didn't do much for me. He susequently wrote a book about it).
Thizza bloke guz daarnar pub – eelbi probly scoffin grub
Wi the chipsy eats ill never bea leanun
Oniz edizis trilbys sat, so eez knownuz “John the At”
Weeiz motto, “Icn getit” – eez John Keenan.
I vowdad never read iz book but a concede
Ive brokmi word nso I seek repentance;
I struggled forrawhile weeits lacka classic style
But strangely I enjoyed “A Stiffer Sentence”.
So its John, John, John. What the fuck have you got on?
Yud look better wearin spatsa racravat;
Can you get me size 9 brogues
Jus like them I’ve sinin Vogue?
Yurra rogue n notn angel, John the Hat.
Johnll appily confide thate dida stretch inside
In Armle and in Lindolm weer the lags wa;
N wotwa John’s Gret Crime, whose consequence wa time?
The import of sumindian Viagra.
When John at last wabrought before the County Court
Ed pleadiz case weeartdue fussa clamma;
When the jujud sentence John it wasn’t Gaviscon
Id need, but John’s blue pills ta welpim liftizamma.
So it’s John, John, John, ya crafty woebegone,
(Eezon the phone in fluent Gujarat)
I’m afta Gordon’s Gin
Urra vintij mandolin –
Daya think uzyacd getem John the Hat?
An even wenin prison, once the chance it had arisen
E faarndizzen a bran new littlearner
The scamaz Keenan ledit, gained im telephonic credit
An so e putiz pillzon the back-burner.
Aziz book unfurlz, eza bugger fo the girls
Of the Mumbai clubzan sezso iniz story;
Butiz thrills are blown apart, az poor Johnll luzizart,
Toowa little girl, iz daughter, nama Shorli.
So its John, John, John its 6 to 4 odds-on
Thill cumagen - beware the bureaucrat!
Best keep insi der line.
(Are ya stocking Calvin Klein?)
I doff my captayu, mate – John the Hat.