A Song For Shills

It wasn’t me I swear, I’m just a patsy,
I wouldn’t/couldn’t do that, I’m a patsy,

Me? I never shot anyone,
I’ve never even owned a gun,

I’m just a ordinary guy, a patsy.

Me shoot the President? Don’t be a prat, see,
It was the CIA, it couldn’t not be,
It must have been an inside job;
Perhaps he was hit by the Mob?
I don’t know who it was, but it was not me.

How can you say my prints were on the trigger?
Me murder J.D. Tippit? Doesn’t figure!


Yes, it was a conspiracy,
That Ruby had it in for me,


There’s never been a frame up that was bigger.

You’d have to be a moron not to credit
The books by all the cranks who say they geddit;
The Warren Report was a joke,
They sold you a pig in a poke,


I know that’s true because I never read it.

It wasn’t me I swear, I’m just a patsy,
I wouldn’t/couldn’t do that, I’m a patsy,
The loony conspiracy crowd
Have made their fortunes screaming loud,


And on their vast outpourings they’ve grown fat, see?

To The Prosaic Truth About The KENNEDY ASSASSINATION
Back To Poetry Index