Bjork and His Cork

Bjork stood upright in the dock The judge looked up and frowned The cuffs were firmly locked As everyone stared him down It wasn't me he pleaded I didn't pull the 'trigger' Surely you can see it now He was trying not to snicker Was it not your cork that killed him? The victim's lawyer questioned? Your initials are all over it From one of your wine bottles, he mentioned Indeed it was a cork of mine From one of my wines, without a doubt It wasn't me who held it last Before the crime was carried out I confess it was my father I know he doesn't drink wine His farts had become a bother And his marriage was no longer fine His wife told him to plug it Which he did with trembling fear To avoid a permanent split With the love of his love; mother dear It was the gas build up during the day That caused this moment of dread Poor old neighbour, David Mackay Received a fatal cork-blow to the head