A cold, hard September day -
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Dogs barking across the lake -
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Rocky Raccoon was heard to say,
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"That other Rocky, he's a fake."
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In the town the patrons paused,
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Swiftly emptied their lagers
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And waited for what's in store.
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Here is Rocky's embittered saga:
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"Paul wrote the lyrics first, then the chords;
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Royalties had been settled;
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It was in all the stores;
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Fame, it seemed, had all but nestled
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In my lap. I even met John,
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Though only once, and briefly.
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Still - there I was, in a song
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All about me - well, chiefly.
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I came back home, not two miles from here,
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Told my folks; even the mayor
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Of the town bought my beer.
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Well, you remember - what a day - ah -
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What a day, what excitement
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When we learnt that Rocky Raccoon
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Was to be on the Double White Album - it meant
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That this town fell into a swoon
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Of self-congratulation. But then -
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You know! Do I have to go on?
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Days after the release, days when
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We all were just beginning to know the wrong
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Done us, it was in those days
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That I knew what hatred meant.
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Yes - a false Rocky Raccoon, I says,
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An imposter Rocky, diabolical, hell-sent,
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Had pinched my spot, and with it fame
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And glory. And for evermore on the Double White
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The imposter Raccoon, with my name,
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Was to reap the rewards, mine by right."
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The barmaid flicked the tap, out flowed the larger.
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Back at the ranch, Poncho,
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Disguised as a door, had his knob shot off.
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Rocky was never to be seen again round those parts.
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And the townsfolk? Well - never forget,
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Always be the one to hand out the Kool-Aid.
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-----------------
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While My Catarrh Gently Weeps
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| TISM |
