This little ditty was written about a frenemy of mine who used to hang out at the Bourgeois Pig and chain smoke while wearing black and bitching about life. You know who you are. Hope you’re well. It’s written in the style of Robert Burns because I was reading a lot of Burns lately cause I’m one-sixteenth Scottish, and that means I’m tight with the kilt klan. If you don’t like it, suck a haggis.
Will Averill, after Burns
Wore all black loike aye witch,
She ne’er quite made it Aut ah Junior High School
Och, Aye, she’s a Melancholy Bitch.
Now she’s din Art, And chain smokes GPC’s,
Her voice ah gravely, monotonous pitch,
And tae man keeps her daun,
And tae music scene’s dead
Life’s hard on a Melancholy Bitch.
Dae nae cry fae her
As she fucking dinnae want ye pity,
Just hair dye and 70’s kitch,
One momentary glance,
Intae sallow eyes, reminds ays,
That she’s nowt but ay Melancholy Bitch.”