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01 Mar 06 - 11:37 AM (#1682333) Subject: Lyr Add: WRECKING BALL PATRICK FITZGERALD From: GUEST From http://p216.ezboard.com/frigorousintuitionfrm21.showMessage?topicID=20.topic THE WRECKING BALL PATRICK FITZGERALD ------------------------------------------------------------------------ (parody of the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, written by a CANADIAN! - yes I have nothing better to do on Fitzmas Eve) The legend lives on from the chippies in town Of the big Jake* they call Gotcha Gumee Fitzgerald, it's said, never loses his head When the skies of November turn gloomy. With a load of indictments – 26,000 or more That Patrick Fitzgerald weighed slowly That good counselor was a bone to be chewed When the gales of November came early Patrick was the pride of the American side Coming back from some mill in Chicago As the big lawyers go he was bigger than most With his crew and the Captain well seasoned. Concluding some terms with some crooked old bums He left fully sick of their squealing And later that night when justice rang out, Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling. The news on the wires made a tattletale sound As the charges he was finally revealing And every man knew, as Junior did, too, T'was the witch of November come stealing. The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait When the news of indictments came slashing When afternoon came it was freezing rain In the face of a hurricane West Wing When supper time came the old crook came on deck Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya At 7PM the government caved in He said fellas it's been good to know ya. Fitzgerald wired in he had more coming in And the Preznit and crew was in peril And later that night when he scooted out of sight Came the wrecking ball Patrick Fitzgerald. Does anyone know where old Turdblossom goes When the law turns the minutes to hours The papers all say he'll have Hell to pay Unless he decides to roll over. They might have split up or they might all go down They may have broke deep and turned over And all that remains is the faces and the names Of the journalists, spies and their masters. Lake Michigan rolls, and Wurmser sings Of the lies from the executive mansion Fitzgerald steams like a young man's dreams, The pundits and aides are for sportsmen. And farther below, old Mexico Takes in what the US can send her And indictments go as prosecutors all know With the gales of November remembered. In a musty old hall in DC they prayed In the White House Cathedral The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 29 times For each charge from Patrick Fitzgerald. The legend lives on from the Chippies in town Of the big Jake they call Gotcha Gumee Fitzgerald they say, never turns off the heat When the gales of November come early. *Jake is a Discordian term for "mindfuck." |