Polka Dot Rose

                                  He always liked to paint with his sunglasses on 

Cause acrylics tend to burn on his eyes

And nothing brought him closer to the canvas 

Then the warmth of Eleanor's thighs

He never had much of a devious nature

But was hardly a modern day saint

If you asked the little boy what he'd be when he grew up 

Said I'd rather be a fireman then paint

Keep on painting 

She always liked to dance with no shoes on

Cause the gravel felt good on her toes

And Mr. Merriweather left his wife and his kids

In search of a polka dot rose

They never thought much of his mongrelesque stature

Or the scent that could make a buzzard faint

If you asked the little boy what he'd be when he grew up

He'd say

Keep on painting