they called 'im tiddly beadly diddley
but 'is real name was Ted O'Reilly -
dumbfounded, awestruck, dumb fuck;
he was my client and best friend
up until he met 'is 'orrifyingly
last I seen 'im was yesterday,
a brighter afternoon in May
when butterflies and sparrows
go all apeshit o'er the skies:
come to think of it, we had the
most awkward of goodbyes.
he was going on and on about
spiked wheels and a flying trout
or was it a swimming eagle?
bottom line is, he was twitching
all the time and he never does;
he was never seen smiling.
He bought a round for the house
said something about 'is vows
and all I could think of
was who this man was -
whoever he was, he wasn't Ted -
'cause I never heard him cuss.
so I tailed 'im, out of the bar
and into the street to his car
and you know what I saw?
I saw a van pull up close
to where he was and they gunned
'im down before throwing 'im a rose.
no, I didn't see who shot 'im
it was dark, no place wasn't dim
I did hear something, though,
something that might be of interest:
his dying words were spoken in my arms,
he said that he had failed the test.
of course I don't know what it means
not my job to, there ain't no beans
to spill; but I have a feeling,
I do, that whoever got Ted
may still be on the look out
for 'is partner who's still not dead.
what do you mean 'ow do
I know he has a number two?
ain't it obvious?
Ted O'Reilly can't be working alone
because he's dumb as fuck,
he's just like a dog with a bone.
better get going, officer
beyond here it only gets rougher
you're on a dying path, you are,
you better get 'em before
they get you; I've a lot of paperwork
now out you go, out my office door.