Meyran Kraus

Anagrammy Awards > Literary Archives > Meyran Kraus

Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.

A song about a famous old urban legend, anagrammed into another complex and notorious urban legend that also involves a plunge...

Paddy's Song (The Bricklayer's Lament)

"Dear sir, I write this note to you to tell you of my plight,
For at the time of writing it, I'm not a pretty sight;
My body is all black and blue, my face a deathly grey,
And I write this note to say why I am not at work today.

While working on the fourteenth floor some bricks I had to clear,
But tossing them down from such a height, was not a good idea;
The foreman wasn't very pleased, he is an awkward sod,
And he said I had to cart them down the ladders in me hod.

Well clearing all these bricks by hand, it was so very slow,
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured a rope below.
But in me haste to do the job, I was too blind to see,
That a barrel full of building bricks was heavier than me.

And so when I untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead,
And clinging tightly to the rope, I started up instead.
I shot up like a rocket, and to my dismay I found
That halfway up I met the bloody barrel coming down.

Well, the barrel broke me shoulder as to the ground it sped,
And when I reached the top, I banged the pulley with me head.
But I clung on tightly, numb with shock, from this almighty blow,
While the barrel spilled out half its bricks some fourteen floors below.

Now when these bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor,
I then outweighed the barrel and so started down once more.
But I clung on tightly to the rope, me body wracked with pain,
And halfway down I met the bloody barrel once again.

The force of this collision halfway down the office block,
Caused multiple abrasions and a nasty case of shock,
But I clung on tightly to the rope as I fell towards the ground,
And I landed on the broken bricks the barrel had scattered round.

Well as I lay there on the floor I thought I'd passed the worst,
But the barrel hit the pulley wheel, and then the bottom burst.
A shower of bricks rained down on me; I didn't have a hope.
As I lay there bleeding on the ground I let go the bloody rope.

The barrel now being heavier, it started down once more.
It landed right across me as I lay there on the floor.
It broke three ribs and my left arm, and I can only say,
I hope you'll understand why I am not at work today."

The Weird And Tricky Death Of Ronald Opus

Twas at a yearly dinner for forensic scientists
That chairman Mills stood up, a bubbly bottle in his fist.
"Hark now!", he bellowed, "While I try to wrench this stubborn cork,
I'll pitch the most deranged ordeal in all my years of work.

Four days ago, two New York cops were driving to a case -
A tall suburban building where a tricky death took place.
A bit above the lobby floor, a rigid man did lie -
Inside a safety net (for window cleaners working by).

'Leaped off the roof', the crowd there vowed - yet it was not enough:
If a secured net broke his fall, why was that poor man snuffed?
A blatant hint rose when they let the tangled body roll -
A really gory belly with a horrid bullet hole!

"A murder probability", both of the cops agreed;
One broken window high above them did impart a lead.
Behind it, on the thirteenth floor, were two stunned, older folks;
Nearby them lay a double-barrelled gun, emitting smoke...

At that time (I will interpose) the body reached my lab,
And I obtained a note it clutched, then stretched it on a slab.
It bared the man's name - Ronald Opus - and his final word...
Let's go back to that flat, though, where more lunacy occurred.

This old pair had one habit they employed in every strife:
The man would aim his gun and pull the trigger at the wife.
"Tomfoolery - it isn't armed", they cried, yet it was plain -
It got poor Ronald when he hurtled by their window pane!

They talked about their 'big old boy', with whom they had a brawl,
'As Mom cut his financing'; then the dad came to recall
Once finding ammo in his room... the cops wore worried looks:
This grown boy must be Ronald's killer that they need to book!

Yet, when the folks got to my lab, their tears began to run -
That sobbing pair identified our Ronald AS their son!
The note drew in the rest - our fellow, in a gloomy spell,
Thought he was caught when his old father came across the shells;

Disturbed to know the crooked scheme to kill his mom imploded,
He leaped off - and got blasted by the gun that HE has loaded!
That whole yarn was ruled 'suicide', just like it has begun...
Now, glasses up - the cork is loose, and Ronald's tale is done."

Return to Meyran Kraus Index

Return to Poem Page

Updated: May 10, 2016


 | The Anagrammy Awards | Enter the Forum | Facebook | The Team


 | Awards Rules | Forum FAQ | Anagrams FAQ | History | Articles


 | Anagram Artist Software | Generators | On-line | Books | Websites


 | Winners | Nominations | Hall of Fame | Anagrammasia | Literary | Specials


 | Vote | Current Nominations | Leader Board | Latest Results | Old Results | Rankings


 | Tribute Page | Records | Sitemap | Search | Anagram Checker | Email Us | Donate

Anagrammy Awards

  © 1998-2017