Today, I went on a magical mystery tour
in a yellow submarine
across the universe.
Sitting right beside me
were Eleanor Rigby, Lady Madonna,
and Michelle the day tripper
gossiping about a day in the life
of the fool on the hill.
We passed by a lot of sights on the way:
Strawberry Fields forever,
and back in the USSR.
A fat man came to the front saying
I am the Walrus!
and introduced Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
who sung a rousing tune about a hard day’s night,
sending everyone to the dance floor.
While everyone jived
to the hippy hippy shake and helter-skelter,
I walked here, there, and everywhere and met
Mr. Moonlight and Nowhere Man.
The first gentleman told me:
Do you want to know a secret?
Everybody’s got something to hide except me and my monkey,
but we can work it out with a little help from my friends.
Nowhere Man, on the other hand, asked me a riddle.
Being for the benefit of Mr. Kite, tell me what you see!
Dumbfounded, I returned: how do you do it?
To which he said: your mother should know!
I walked away after that instance
and went back to my seat,
savoring the view of the Norwegian wood.
Before the tour ended,
a young boy by the name of Rocky Raccoon
asked me for some advice about Blackbird,
the girl he’s courting.
I asked him: What you’re doing?
To which he said: crying, waiting, hoping.
So I gave Rocky Raccoon these bits:
Love her eight days a week,
act naturally, don’t ever change;
carry that weight in spite of all the danger,
all things shall pass if you’ve got trouble.
It’s only love, so let it be!
Rocky Raccoon, with his old brown shoes,
stood up and departed with a smile on his face.
He told me: she’s got the devil in her heart,
but thank you for your advice;
that means a lot!
I’ll be ending my letter here
for I’m off to golden slumbers
while my guitar gently weeps.
But before I go, I want to give you some words:
Don’t let me down when I’m sixty four.
I forgot to remember to forget words of love,
and I should have known better if I fell!
P.S. I love you, you’ve really got a hold on me!
Mean Mr. Mustard