Look up there, there’s a duck in the window,
I deeply suspect that it’s dead,
And for it’s sake I really do hope this it is,
There’s a spike sticking out of it’s head.
Oh no, wait, my mistake, that’s a seperate thing,
It’s a handful of kitchen knives tied up with string.
Ah but, maybe that’s just what it looks like,
The windows are grubby as hell,
And the nets are all fag stained and tatty,
It’s not like it’s easy to tell.
But look! Now a man’s opened that window,
With a face full of madness and sin,
And he’s staring down here, oh, he’s staring at me,
And he’s grinning a terrible grin.
I mean, who hangs up knives in their window?
Not a person that I want to meet.
Wait a minute, he’s gone, and the knives are undone,
Time to get the hell out of this street!
© Cathie Tufnail