Swan Song

Swan Song

"What shall I do with this bird on my land?"
Said Maxwell-Davies to the RSPB man

"It fell from the sky, it went 'smack' on my plate
There was no enticement so it must have been fate"

The keeper of birds asked him what breed it was:
"Cygnus Cygnus, a migratory swan"

"Then what you must do with that bird on your land
Is give it a funeral on the Shapinsay sands"

The Master of Music got carried away
With flights of fancy, to avoid the decay

He chopped off the legs and he chopped off the wings
He chopped off the head no more will it sing

"But hang on a moment, this meat will not boil
To cook it is treason – Its fibre is royal

Or is that just Mute swans? This one's a Whooper
It's too late for treatment, even at BUPA"

Said Max to the copper "Would you like some terrine?"
"No thanks" said the sergeant, "it smells of the queen"

Now I am in trouble and no-one will court me
But they're down in London, I'm up in the Orkneys

Yes, they're down in London, I'm up in the Orkneys

Swan song etc.



Credits
Writer(s): John Slattery, Shaun Mccrindle
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link