McGrath of Baghdad, yer fulla da Shiites. I have *never* seen you *distracted*. Your postings are the Mudcat's bloody *Antidote* to Distraction. Yer always On Point, you rationalistical git. Would *not* wanna face you in the Endgame. You're tough enough in the Opening. / Neveryoumind aboot th' Divil; he's awa' wi' th' Exciseman. / (Now **misled**, oy, dot's a Punch-the-Horse of a different Colour.:)

There's a meritorious serious thread to be ruined, here; and it's a durty job but somebody's got to do it by God. Accordingly, I submit the following titles and/or lyrics:

Hey Rook Me Over
Knights in White Satin
Haul Away Ye Rolling Kings...
The Castle of Dromore
They had Pawned their gear in Liverpool...
Rosie, the Queen of Corona...
The Wreck of the Ruy Lopez (okok so I made that one up, so sue me, I like it)
Her chess was Bunker Hill... (Smothers Bros. No offense, McG.)

and, in conclusion ("Hear, hear!"), from the Wonderful World of Poetry:

The Bishop Orders His Tomb at St. Praxed's Church.

Sorry Kevin. I'm just on a Roll. (Yokel: "Gol-lee. Wut ever happemed t' the Goat?" W.C. Fields: "He was very good, with Mustard." :)