(Sung to the tune of “Beast of Burden”)
I write for kids, and now I’m hurtin’.
I think of words and find my mind ain’t workin’
Kid’s books are for parents and their money will foresee…
I want them all to buy my pages
I know the words will live for ages
Even though my body died
It’s been in formaldehyde.
Can I spell enough?
I know that can be ruff.
I know that Mick can’t strut
To get me out, get me out, get me out
Of bad Goodreads.
I’ll always write with extreme exertion
And it’s for kids which could become a diversion
From the book I wrote that only said I was a huge druggy.
Kiddy, kiddy, kiddy, kiddy, it is Babylon
As soon as my daughter hits it big, we’ll own Amazon
Come on baby, can’t you see through to me…