For Pete's sake (believe it!)

I believe this, this story.
It was told with such sincerity.

There was a man (there always is)
who lived in a house which he called his.
But it wasn't really.

The walls designed to pass sound freely.
He fizzed in there.

'Have you any idea what time it is?' and
'Turn that down you Thoughtless Bastards!"
He owned a stick that banged ceilings,
and knocked out little rounds of plaster.
He called it 'Pete'

And kept it handy beside his favourite seat.
'We'll show 'em Pete!' he'd say.

His neighbours never stayed,
but he did..

Till one day a lady moved upstairs, said
'Just once more Mr Cook and I'll come down
and break your neck.'

He took old Pete and clunked her floor,
in seconds she burst through the door,
broke his neck there and then,
didn't even bat an eyelid.

Police say it wasn't her first time,
at least that's what I heard. They 
took photos, buzz and flash for ages,
offered a reward.

Washed down the walls,
upped the rent.

© cor 98