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Quacks Like A Duck
I've written about chickens with big fat legs
Told of eating my way through the fridge
My psychiatrist says I'm really quite normal
Though I feel unbalanced, a smidge
I've heard of a place, can't remember where
They can treat an affliction like mine
Problem is though, it means a lobotomy
Sends a quake up and down my spine
Don't wanna be mumbling naughty verses
As I wander the streets in my socks
Or talking about inappropriate subjects
Like armpits, halitosis or snots
One reviewer said I was absolute bonkers
But still sings along with my songs
Seems like she might have the same affliction
Methinks both of our mind's long gone
The bottom line to all this nonsense is
Not much can be done so I'm stuck
Wearing this crown of a silly old jester
And quacking all day like a duck
Copyright ©
Jack Ellison
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