What Ever Happened to Albert Mert?
Now on a happier note we see
Chimpanzees up in a tree
Parakeets eat buttered toast
While alcoholic hunters boast
Of elephants of green and gold
They shot while sleeping in the fold.
Anacondas, black and blue
Digest bananas, crates and glue
Piranhas daintily express
singular pleasure at the mess
Of crumbs and nails falling fast
of gluedrops making gay repast.
Up in the skies the lark's a lark
He chews on leaves and rubber bark
The tiger's burning ever bright
A hunter strikes an Eddy light
And drunks get drunker through the night
While natives fly a coloured kite.
While I am flying higher still
One lonely man, ten thousand pills
A cuckoo's nest I see below
Between the treetops, row on row
To you from flaming hands I throw
Large hunks of wood, pine pitch and dough.
Up, up we go on elder vines
On sour grapes and ancient wines
With apes and monkeys, hard hats on
And pigs that fly par avion
Nice tight jackets tied in back
While soldiers fight a Mack Attack.
Whirling, spinning in a haze
Faster, faster, flying daze
Tighter, tighter, sparks and flame
No one knows just who to blame
Tried to lighten living load
Laughing, crying, lights, explode!
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>
Here beneath this mound of dirt
Lies what remains of Albert Mert
Tried too hard to find a way
To make it through another day
Seems like folly comes too close
When playing with an overdose.
During the 1960s and throughout the 1970s, I saw friends and friends of friends get into serious trouble and even die as a result of experimenting with drugs. Many of them thought using drugs was a way to be "cool" or popular, while others used them to cover up other things they were going through, rather than facing their problems and dealing with them. The result were and still are, tragic.
© David (Dave) H. Cottrell
Chimpanzees up in a tree
Parakeets eat buttered toast
While alcoholic hunters boast
Of elephants of green and gold
They shot while sleeping in the fold.
Anacondas, black and blue
Digest bananas, crates and glue
Piranhas daintily express
singular pleasure at the mess
Of crumbs and nails falling fast
of gluedrops making gay repast.
Up in the skies the lark's a lark
He chews on leaves and rubber bark
The tiger's burning ever bright
A hunter strikes an Eddy light
And drunks get drunker through the night
While natives fly a coloured kite.
While I am flying higher still
One lonely man, ten thousand pills
A cuckoo's nest I see below
Between the treetops, row on row
To you from flaming hands I throw
Large hunks of wood, pine pitch and dough.
Up, up we go on elder vines
On sour grapes and ancient wines
With apes and monkeys, hard hats on
And pigs that fly par avion
Nice tight jackets tied in back
While soldiers fight a Mack Attack.
Whirling, spinning in a haze
Faster, faster, flying daze
Tighter, tighter, sparks and flame
No one knows just who to blame
Tried to lighten living load
Laughing, crying, lights, explode!
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>
Here beneath this mound of dirt
Lies what remains of Albert Mert
Tried too hard to find a way
To make it through another day
Seems like folly comes too close
When playing with an overdose.
During the 1960s and throughout the 1970s, I saw friends and friends of friends get into serious trouble and even die as a result of experimenting with drugs. Many of them thought using drugs was a way to be "cool" or popular, while others used them to cover up other things they were going through, rather than facing their problems and dealing with them. The result were and still are, tragic.
© David (Dave) H. Cottrell