Adams and Eves

In Eastbourne it is healthy
And the residents are wealthy
It’s a miracle that anybody dies;
Yet this pearl of English lidos
Is a slaughter house of widows –
If their bank rolls are above the normal size.
If they’re lucky in addition
In their choice of a physician
And remember him when making out their wills
And bequeath their Rolls Royces
Then they soon hear angel voices
And are quickly freed from all their earthly ills.
If they’re nervous or afraid of
What a heroine is made of
Their mentality will soon be reconditioned
So they needn’t feel neglected
They will shortly be infected
With the heroin in which they are deficient.
As we witnessed the deceased borne
From the stately homes of Eastbourne
We are calm, for it may safely be assumed
That each lady that we bury
In the local cemetery
Will re-surface – when the body is exhumed.
It’s the mortuary chapel
If they touch an Adam’s apple
After parting with a Bentley as a fee
So to liquidate your odd kin
By the needle of the bodkin
Send them down to sunny Eastbourne by the sea.