Earl of Grey
Peering down from his castle on the hill,
The Earl of Grey heats a tea refill.
When money runs old and money runs deep,
he’s all the time needed for the tea to steep.
Puff puff, from the old cigar,
a royal boss, a king, a czar
No longer bothered with petty street crimes,
no thugs, no violence, oh those were the times.
An army of pawns, work like a game of chess,
he can just snap, and they clean up the mess.
Puff puff, from the old cigar,
pass the champagne and the caviar.
An empire of violence and crime at his feet,
it ensues on the street while he sits in his suite.
But when looking for clues, his payroll’s his muse,
to polish and buff any trace from his shoes.
Puff puff, from the old cigar,
will probably write his on memoir.
The Daily Mobster 