This parrot is no more, my man
What you just sold to me
You try to wake him, if you can
For he has ceased to be
There’s no point getting loud and rough
He’s quit this world of toil
He’s had enough, and now he’s shuff…
…led off this mortal coil
He’s joined the choir invisible,
He’s took his final walk
And your assertion’s risible
That he’s just tired and shagged out after a particularly long squawk
You nailed him to the perch, you fraud
D’you take me for a prat?
He isn’t pining for the fjords
What kind of talk is that?
In this here parrot’s book of life
He’s wrote his final chapter
His metabolic processes
Are not a current factor
I now insist on recompense
Yes, that’s what I’m demanding
This parrot’s stuffed, in every sense
His plumage notwithstanding
If I don’t get a pet what squawks
I’ll take it out on you
You’ve got a slug? It sings? It talks?
Well, that’ll have to do
