Boris and Sasha
were droogies
They liked to go
out for a drink
And Boris would
say to Sasha
Tell me, what do
you think?
They were great
friends
But it wouldn’t
last long
They ordered a
couple of brewskis
They ordered some
vodka as well
But then they
started talkin’ ‘bout poetry
And everything
went to hell
They were feelin’
all right
But they were
acting all wrong
Sasha said poems
were worthless
Sasha said poems
were bad
Sasha shouldn’t
have said that
Because Boris got
pretty mad
He said think
what you like
But you are
thinking all wrong
What about
Pushkin and Wordsworth
What about
Shelley and Blake?
Well, Pushkin was
a plonker
And Shelley was a
big flake
They thought they
could write
But they were
doing it wrong
Boris picked up a
knife from the table
Probably there to
cut bread
He said you’re an
illiterate moron
And he stabbed
poor Sasha dead
He was a poetry
fan
And his feelings
were strong
The moral of this
story
If anyone had any
doubt
Is that some
poetry lovers
Should maybe
chill the f**k out
That’s all I have
to say.
-
Willie Watson
