Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Barry Booth
Everyone says the same
Though they can't remember his name
He's neatly filed and placed
As The Man With Very Poor Taste
He lives in a yellow semi
With a purple striped front door
His son is green
His wife is pink
She works all day at a bright red sink
And she doesn't wear a hat in church
He's got a concrete garden
And curtains in his car
And a plastic hedge
And a wooden dog
And a garden pond with a marble frog
And he doesn't wear a collar in church
But now that he's gone
Thеy've nothing to say
There's nothing for his wifе
Now that he's passed away
And I think that's very poor taste