Beowulf

There once was a man from Uranus
Whose dream was to not quite be famous
He called himself Paul
He’d rise but to fall
His lack of Gold records should shame us 

T‘was born in the fifties like Stingle
To howl and to mumble and single
He’d scream with a shriek
Then warble quite bleak
And once he even dared to jingle

Opportunity knocked a few times
Offered riches for some simple rhymes
He said yes and no
Seen that video
He passed up crisp fifties for dimes

Over the years he paid his dues
This songwriter without a clue
But radio shrugged
The basement, it tugged
And off he went into the blue

So music poured out through the years
Songs filled with fake drums and real fears
He keeps us bemused,
Transfixed and transfused
Cause if not, then why is he here…