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| Scrumpy the tramp was a magnet for trouble When his shack burnt down he crouched in the rubble With ne'er a razor to shave off his stubble Grinning Like Father's Puppet. The blackened timbers, they served as his bed With fire-twisted metal that cushioned his head Like old ragged wounds that oozed pus and bled Yet he Grinned Like Father's Puppet. 'Twas dark by day and black by night Soon Scrumpy lost the power of sight He shrank to half his normal height Still Grinning LIke Father's Puppet. To pass the time he wove a wreath To honour his late brother Keith He made it out of crooked teeth That Grinned Like Father's Puppet. One day he needed food and ale And so he sought the Holy Grail He found it, but the bread was stale Grinning Like Father's Puppet. To raise some cash, he donned a crown His pecker up, his britches down And capered wildly round the town Grinning Like Father's Puppet. The locals beat him with a mace They beat him at the relay race They beat the features from his face That Grinned Like Father's Puppet. They duffed him up, they did him in They dumped his body in the bin Yet never could they wipe his grin That was Grinning Like Father's Puppet. Well, flesh decayed and years passed Until one day and at long last Scrumpy's corpse had swelled so vast It was Grinning Like Father's Puppet. A passing showman chanced to spy This horrid thing that WOULD NOT DIE He poked it sharply in the eye Grinning Like Father's Puppet. The eyeball burst and Scrumpy woke His deathly trance at last had broke He owed it to this showman-bloke Grinning Like Father's Puppet. |
| "Come join my freakshow" quoth the man "You'll get well paid, you'll get a tan, You'll dine on jellied-human-spam, Grinning Like Father's Puppet!" So Scrumpy joined that freakish show And little did the townsfolk know That soon all would be grief and woe Grinning Like Father's Puppet. For Scrumpy wanted real revenge And so, his murder to avenge, He sacrificed them at Stonehenge Grinning Like Father's Puppet. The bodies piled up like sardines Like piles of bloody runner-beans Like accidents with mince-machines Grinning Like Father's Puppet. And Scrumpy laughed at what he'd learned Now that his eyesight had returned And watched as all the corpses burned Grinning Like Father's Puppet. He went back to his shack of yore Where he had crouched so long before And writhed in raptures on the floor Still Grinning Like Father's Puppet.. But not long did he feel elation He died of excess masturbation (This IS NOT my imagination) Grinning Like Father's Puppet. And some do say his spirit waits Behind the bushes, at the gates To stalk the living that he hates Grinning Like Father's Puppet. Beware my child, this tale is true, If Scrumpy does come after you I cannot tell you what to do; His skin all dried, his grin so wide, With rows of small sharp teeth inside, His breath all fried, like cyanide, Like something in his mouth has died, His flesh all greyed, his fingers splayed, Like games his Father often played, His strings all frayed, you've been betrayed you can't escape, you can't evade... Grinning Like Father's... Grinning Like Father's... Grinning Like Father's Puppet! |
| SCRUMPY THE UBER-TRAMP, AND HIS FAITHFUL HOUND ROVER |
| A series of verse by Rosemary Gamsa, detailing the adventures of a certain supervagrant by the name of 'Scrumpy'. Drawing by Jon Gross. |