Lucy in the sky with diamonds,
Sitting on a rudder made of cheese.
Never ever ever looking backwards,
Cigarettes are making her a-wheeze.
Mary Mary quite contrary,
Was the lamb you ate called "Peas"?
Was that a fart that I detected,
Floating lightly up upon the breeze...?
Little Boy Blue have you got a horn,
On which to play your favourite jazz.
Have you been crying? Those are red eyes I see,
Or have you just been out on the razz?
Rock-A-Bye-Baby up in a tree,
Will all the blackbirds mind?
Or are they in pies and now not free,
Oh quiet baby do be kind!
• Poem updated by J R A Gigney 24 October 2011
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