Saturday, February 17, 2007

Briar and Neal have started a room.

My dear friends Briar Sandeman and Neal Murphy, who shelter me when I'm out east and who took a bus to New York to help me with my CD launch there, have started a room in TO. Hotmail is too busy right now, so I can't get the poster, but be sure to support it, as they have supported me. One thing you can be sure of, there'll be drinking, a lot of fun, lots of cool people and no Richard Hater's (who are, without exception, ugly talentless dorks.) Good luck Neal and Bri, you know I LOVE YOU!!!

The Ballad of Bobby Pickton

Well, I did a show at the Roxy in Vancouver, and the group I worked with, Keep Your Head Up (KYHU) videoed it and put it on YouTube. The reaction to my new song was very big, with the crowd singng along by the end!! The is as hardcore as I get, (so far).

The Ballad of Bobby Pickton by R Lett

Bobby Pickton was rolling down Main Street
after dropping off a sow and a boar
At a packing plant near Clark Street,
when he thought he might take him a whore.
Ain’t much money in pigs those days,
Bobby’s wallet was feeling light,
So he took a turn up Powell Street,
where he knew the price would be right.

He saw her standing on Abbott –
looking as cracked as a crack whore can be.
Half-chug with a bleach blonde hairdo,
men’s pants and a baby blue tee.
She climbed up his driver side window,
and even though Bobby looked shifty,She grinned her brown smile, wiggled her bone ass,
and jumped in his cab for a fifty.

Chorus:
Oh Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked his victims.
Oh Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked his victims.
One little, two little three little victims, four little, five little, six little victims, seven little, eight little, nine little victims,
Ten little Pickton victims.

The drive back to Poco went quickly cause at homes where he kept his rock.
She said she’d need to smoke some, before sucking on his cock.
But Bobby had plans for his escort, once he got back to the farm.
She was looking to party, he was looking to do harm.


Where are you drugs you said you have? I need to be high for screwing.
And where’s the money you owe me? Hey what the hell you doing?
The rope was tight, the knife was sharp, she barely felt a thing.
Bobby kicked up the generator, and began processing.

Break:
This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy ate Margaret, and this one sucked on the bone.

The first girl was too crazy, but after her it was fun.
Bobby moved into double didgets, before the summer was done.
He looked in the paper for something, some news about people missing.
All he found were Olympic scores, and who Britney was kissing.

So Bobby kept on going – had no reason to quit.
No one cared about these people, no on gave a shit.
Finally when he’d done about thirty, some one raised the alarm.
But Bobby kept pulling ho’s off Hastings, and taking ‘em back to the farm.
Chorus:
Oh Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked his victims.
Oh Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked his victims.
One little, two little three little victims, four little, five little, six little victims,seven little, eight little, nine little victims,
Ten little Pickton victims.

But Bobby started to get lazy when cleaning up the dead.
The pasture was full of skeletons, he ran out of room for heads.
So finally the cops came a knockin’ to complain about the smell,
Poked around the Lower Forty and uncovered Bobby’s gateway to Hell.

So now they got him locked up - gonna put his ass on trial,
Spend a hundred million dollars to try and close Bobby’s file.
And the media machine is drooling over bobby’s heinous crimes,
And me, I’m singing a ballad, cause Pickton’s just a sign of the times.

Chorus:
Oh Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked his victims.
Oh Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked his victims.
One little, two little three little victims, four little, five little, six little victims, seven little, eight little, nine little victims,
Ten little Pickton victims. Oh Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked his victims.
Oh Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked ‘em, Pickton picked his victims.
One little, two little three little victims, four little, five little, six little victims, seven little, eight little, nine little victims,
Ten little Pickton victims.

Whitehorse, Yukon

Well here Lori, Simon and I are in Whitehorse. Not surprisingly it's cold, and the cops are very big. I suspect the reason for the giant Mountie is to keep the locals away, since all I have met since I was here was tourists from Scotland and Germany, here to take part in some ridiculously long race to Dawson City.

It is hard to tell, but the crows in the picture are HUGE. And if I'm not mistaken, a group of crows is called a Murder of Crows. Hmmmm