-> "No Ordinary Man, #3"
Original Song Title:
"An Ordinary Man"
Parody Song Title:
"No Ordinary Man, #3"
Well after all, Picturing, I’m no ordinary man;
I daresay I’d go further: “extraordinary man.”
My work has always been just right; it’s not just ego that I flaunt.
No average man am I, unlike the likes of him.
Wielding the palette knife is my life.
I think you’ll agree, my talents are not slim…
Not an ordinary man.
I’ll let this snipe into my life so wretched etchings won’t ensue.
Out from the artistic gloaming I’ll bring him, in my home.
I’m aware: he is a squalling Hun prating appalling views.
I cry: with him in my life, there are bound to be some brawls.
But I’ll hound his unripe mind
And soon have it quite refined.
He now inhabits an ether that’s composed of self.
And it’s I who appalls?!!
I will not face defeat, unwilting
Is my quest to drill this schmuck.
One word he’ll bray, quite outré,
I know is going to rhyme with duck.
With this putz in my life,
I know that the strife will be rife.
As I listen to this man,
I want to retch into a can
Up his fat head he is filling
With a self-flattering billing.
I would love to pop his ego with a knife.
Could he be a mental man? He’s ill-tempered….
Hey, it takes one
To know one, is my refrain.
But I have to change my mindset
’cause some gelt I stand to gain.
Impatient is this guy; he bristles at my quips;
He says my stuff’s no good; I so would
Love to punch him with my curled-up fingertips.
Could he be a mental man?
I hope that his palette knife
Has no point sharpened like a lance
What I see in this lad: vice
But if he’ll take my advice
I can get him on the right track,
Else I fear that off he might slack
His bad habits I’ll abolish
Such as being a lolling lush
And hush use of such raw language
That out from his maw will gush.
It is short, we know, this life
What’s a few moments of strife?
On emotions I’ll put checks,
Though this gent’s inclined to vex.
I’ll suppress my dispositions, suffering his disquisitions,
Sometimes as sharp as a supersonic fife.
But he’s not a shivving man,
I don’t really fear his cleaving me after his screeching booms.
If we’re reasonably respectful,
Then neither will meet his doom.
I see before my eyes a misanthropic boy.
I’ll need to castigate, execrate
Yet somehow manage to maintain my grand poise,
Be as quiet as I can.
We have to share each other’s life
And keep the rantings to a few.
So, each of us has to bend; it not, at least make amends.
If we natter and peace shatter,
We’ll have to tone down the patter, cry, and hew.
A looming crisis, no anomaly.
But please! few homilies to parse.
There’ll likely be Shakespearean drama
But no boots put to the arse.
I hope that it’s worth the strife
Of sharing each other’s life.
And they’ll not use on each other the palette knife.
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