WHAT A DICK-Y BOW!
De Miller’s Tale
Tolleshunt D’arcy Tales - by Jeffri Saucer
Twas in the in ye summer of ‘85
that there Bamber did shoot his familie,
I was in the farm house the day o’ the killin’
And I distinctly remembers,
That the laydie in question,
had a gun which had moved
each time I laid mine eye upon her.
I was a scratchin’ my head
because she’d been dead
For at least seven hours or Morse.
At first it was fun to be movin’ the gun
While we set about training our troops.
But we did look a bit thick
To find in our tricks
The camera had recorded them all.
From the body to window,
To the bed to the floor,
Did the gun move around
And much more.
Then after that date,
as statement I made
Leaving out true the notes
of my pocket book for sure.
Much later on when Dickinson he dun,
A review of the case some more,
The cat out o’ the bag did come,
From our own firearms boys
That the body had moven’ it’s self some more.
Then in ‘91 when,
I was almost done
For perverting the course of justice,
We was lucky enough,
to get one of ye olde friends,
From down City o’ London Police our way.
They beavered away,
with Barry McKay,
and wiped all away,
Our corruption charges hooray!
And so ends my tale
without going beyond the pale,
That appeal courts and nonsense
will never catch me by the tail,
I never left a good enough trail,
But I’ve made a few quid out of
Dr Who and Dickie Bows too.
Unlike in Chaucer
there has been no debaucher
no, bottoms, nor bums nor glee,
but it’s ok for me cos I get on T.V
to make more silver for me!