“We made a most thorough investigation”,
Said Campbell to the people of the press,
Then tell me Hamish, on our assignation,
Why did you not impose on my largess?
You had the dupe you sought, but no confession,
Perchance you thought his appeal wouldn’t run,
Now here’s your last chance to sate this obsession,
So ask me nicely: “Where’d you put the gun?”
You treated me as though I were a nutter,
I’ve had that sort of bullshit all my life,
In ’96, all I did was to utter
“I should have given that whore to the knife!”
Your fucking bent Masonic brethren took that
As their cue to destroy me, and they tried
To lock me up for ten years, now it seems, prat,
I’m much too small a minnow to be fried.
It was your chosen dupe who felt the fury,
But now that Barmy Barry has walked free,
And you’re booted upstairs, thanks to the jury,
I’ll give you one last chance, if you’ll agree.
I’ll answer all your questions with no bother,
And you can boast “I got ’im!” to the Sun,
But first you’ll have to put them in a pother
By tracking down she who gave me the gun.
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