Desert Island Diss
Eight songs ? Just eight songs ?
Then how will I even survive ?
Eight thousand is nearer the mark
To keep my spirits alive.
Eight song played back-to-back
That’s half-an-hour-ish, tops.
Just half-an-hour of paradise
Until salvation stops.
Washed ashore with a gramophone –
The wind-up kind, I’m guessing.
You’ll need a bigger bribe than that
To get me to confessing.
It always sounds such agony,
This torpid, tropical clime –
I’ll take the grimy, busy rain
Of cities ev’ry time.
There’s Bill and the Bible, as well, of course,
So that’s the loo-roll sorted,
But for my pick of luxury,
I’d like to be deported.
Eight songs ? Just eight songs ?
Is that all you’ll allow ?
If music is so rare and cruel,
I beg, please drown me now…
