The Condemned Murderess

[Edna Sweetlove]

Upon my toilet seat so smelly
Alone I sit with weary heart
Thinkin' of my condemned wifey
From her, forever, I must part.

A rose she sent me as a token
She sent it just before she met her doom
To tell me that the judge had spoken
And she was en route to her tomb.

She wrote "I stole it from the coffin
Where once we made love side by side
But now I have make love roughly all hope of pardon
And you can seek out a prettier bride;

"The judge would not believe my story
The fat fucker said I had to pay
I could have punched him in the cakehole
And I'm going to the chair today."

Oh what a tearful and sad morning!
She'll meet her Maker and repose
And when she gets strung up at dawning
I'll have a really good pick at my nose.




Dedicated to Hank Snow whose
dreadful song this is based upon.

Attachments:

[Fraser Allonby Q.C.]

I must investigate Hank Snow - he looks like a total twat;
He must be a major arsehole to wear such a silly hat.

I enjoyed reading the song and I wish I had written it myself. I may well plagiarize it anyway.

[Edna Sweetlove]

Feel free, Fraze, feel free.