For the sake of 3 things holy, in the waves of the wake in pink lake,
I'll swim with a fat snake in a sea quake, hit my head on a leaf rake,
get brain-freeze from a milkshake & trash old C.N.N. for bein' fake
but not too outwardly fake, as orb Earthlings are told that all is jake
on the grimy slaughter-house floor with the last rail crex corn crake
gulping air like an aeroplane flown by wife-murderin' Robert Blake
who's free as a bird now, now that he's got a lovely, from jail, break