SODS £ PEPPERS CLUB It said the boat people were the 3obkir. Lane is in my ear3 and on my George, John and Rir.go, ‘they don't cause About twenty years ago today know back I'd love to turn the page. A bizarre alley made up of cobble- All they ever grew was dried-out hay Or they won't say Now they spend all weekend in the yard stone Buy all the album covers Woke up, fell out of bed A-Raising radishes and leeks and chard And built by hacks. With the hidden clues to discover Sort the thoughts in m y head So may I introduce to you Dragged up a lead for the front page The guys who bring Lawn Doctor tears Paul is dead Bobkin Lane . . . - D .F. A piece of fiction, sure to engage Sods £ Peppers Local Garden Club! We replaced him with a look-alike Faked the facts, worked in hype We're Sods £ Peppers Local Garden Club Who could sing, play guitar and TODAY Stop the press, get it typed We hope all our roots will stay put write Imagine there's no Beatles And you bought the hype that Show it to my staff, somebody spoke We're Sods £ Peppers Local Garden Club Said it was a joke and I went into a The prospects aren't bright Ralph Snodsmith's just a tenderfoot Paul is dead. No sub below us -D.F. dream Sods £ Peppers Local, Sods £ Peppers Local, AAAh -- AAAAh -- AAHA . . . Above us no Mr. Kite Sods £ Peppers Local Garden Club Imagine all the solos We don't like flower-pickers CHARLIE MANSON Not quite up to par . . . Charlie Manson I read the News today, oh boy And please keep off our lawn The People Page would get the facts We don't like crabgrass, dandelions, What have you done? My sweet loot You made a mess of everyone all straight Or neighbors who grow twelve-foot pines It said the Beatles won't return Enough to make m y guitar hoot And block out the sunshine You made a mess of everyone I ’d really like to earn some more Charlie Manson The Post said nothing more I don't really want to stop the song They sold the papers they had sought I'd really like to b u m some more But it seems to have gone on too long What have you done? Really like to overturn some more "Helter Skelter", to sell the day before And our members should get out and mow, But my albums are ignored, m y loot You stupidhead, I'd love to turn the page. -D.F. Water, mulch, prune, fertilize, and sow Hairy lawsuit My sweet loot So let me introduce to you W as not a call to strike folks dead Hairy lawsuit Oh m y loot 30BKIN LANE A chap who's most adept with shears We sure were misinterpreted Bobkin Lane, there is a vendor Chiffon ripoff My sweet loot From Sods £ Peppers Local Garden Club! Charlie Manson selling foot-long franks Chiffon ripoff So much for m y loot You stupidhead He has knishes, soda pop and We looped some tapes pretzels too * I've cut songs since we split What would you think if I trimmed And played some music backwards And all the students on their way to your rosebush? But I can't get a hit You listened, then you hacked up everyone class No m a t te r what style I steal Would you hope I got stung by a bee? Charlie Manson Stop and get some gas- Lend me your hedge and I'll snip it I sang blues You ought to buy a new tone arm On the c o m e r is a blackboard and a to size I sang Western Y o u ’re in a cell now man from CAR? And I'll try not to knock down your The many joggers call him Moonie I 'll sing this. You've found your niche I've sung callypso tree And our PR m a n almost slashed his wrists •hind his back Oh, I trim greens w i t h a little help They don't believe his whacko I 've sung pop There's only one m an w ho came out on top But every single single is a worse flop from m y shears of this rhetoric, I pick beans with a little help from Even though it's slick, makes 'em All m y stuff's Eugliosi sick. In the discount shop my shears He struck it rich. _ j >Ri Keep things keen with a little help Ooh how I wish I was still a mop-top from m y shears Bobkin Lane is in my ears and in my Well I feel nostalgic 'What do I do when the winter wind eyes And this song parallels it A DAY IN THE LIFE OF RUPERT MURDOCK There beneath the gray urban skies It was swiped from a fifties jukebox blows? I read the Post today oh boy I sit and meanwhile back I don't mind Does it make you wish that you were The headline said the Beatles had dead? I got memories returned Across the street there is a herd on And residuals . . . Must I not clip 'till the frozen And though the article was small disco roller skates hedge grows? Well I just had to gasp Making moves to music no one else Must y ou lock your shears up in the What's wron g with you? T h e y ran a can hear I wish I could see shed? photograph And the people Y o u ’ll buy anything No, I trim stairs with a little help you can spot If you bought m y LPs Trim m y hair with a little help from are new Who are you that you can be so misled? m y shears Have a scrape or Guess y o u ’re the same boobs who believed With a little help from my two, black ar.d she-e-e-e- e - e - e - e - e a r s • that I was dead b^ue Bums are sprawled If you like What the Man Said, you won't out on the get far benches Most Wings fans could even get conned by PAUL IS DEAD when the weather's Ravi Shankar . . . Paul Ts dead mild All the albums will tell you so Weirdos shout Imagine we got together We have our reasons why he had to gc their pleas to Got back where we belonged Believe us that Paul is dead. couples on the Would things be like yesterday? street A revoluti-on? Accident And the people le' Or would we make the Ruttles He was in an auto accident their dogs run Look original? So play the record ir. reverse wild You m a y say that I'm a grumbler And hear the verse say Paul is dead. That we'll get back again for sure You'd best stop dreaming of reunions Why he had to go Or you might wait 'till you're sixty-four. We don't know, it wasn't clear He stood with his back to us - J .R • Crossed the road with his feet bare. Cover photo by Dan "Strawberry" Fiorella Paul is dead drawings by John "The Walrus" Rawlins That's the message that the walrus brings We had to do it ’fore he got to i i X £ 1 i J! sing A splendid thyme Is guaranteed for all |