The according to well Me

When you were born The king boys were in the hospital trying to sell dodgy perfumes All three of them Some bastard up in the hills had a torch on the whole night St Ables accident and emergency No rooms available I totally understood kissing your friend The amateur magician stuff was great Our fishing trips We always came back with a haul but then again most of that clinked Some of the table legs were sheer artistry I turned your newborn head towards the night sky This is yours my son