Here reposeth Sab Will
A terrible lier
His body is long gone
Lost in the pyre
He burned like a poet
Laid words on a wire
He said he loved music
His drum an old tyre
He banged on about life
And painted desire
His rainbows were priceless
But there was no buyer
He offered his eyes
To those who would hire
A rogue ragamuffin
Attired to enquire
A prickly ponderer
Out to inspire
A point of view other
Than that of the shire
With that he rolls over
Disgruntled old sigher
And mutters a curse
You can only admire
If you lot won’t listen
I’ll pluck on my lyre
In purple pyjamas
And preach to the choir