Here we are on December Thirty-First,
I’ll be glad when this accursed year is done,
This stinking year must rank down with our worst,
But we don’t care- or dare- to dig up that sorrier one.
I was chillin’ in the car when the news came on,
Then the fuggy atmosphere grew a degree colder,
Neil Innes, immortal eccentric English wit has gone!?
The words I heard drove me over onto the hard shoulder.
What a way to wrap up a bad year’s news,
With a sigh but a rueful grin I wiped a tear away,
With his Python bits, Ruttle skits Innes would amuse,
He’s left us with a song and a smile, this dogs’s had his day.