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Nigel the Nervous Knife-Thrower

by Cardinal Cox


Nigel the Nervous Knife-Thrower

Young Nigel is very skilled

(Ignoring people that he’s killed)

At tossing hatchets and other tools

At all manor of ignorant fools

Who stand with backs to the wall

Following the Ringmasters call

For volunteers from the crowd

A request made quiet loud

For Nigel.

He trained himself for many years

Attempting to conquer all his fears

He’d aim at targets in his room

Hoping that very soon

His hand would cease from its shakes

And he’d desist from mistakes

But phobias would not be gone

And so the subject of this song

Is poor Nigel.

So Nigel joined a circus bright

Alongside lions whose apatite

Was not for Christians anymore

But blancemange bought from a store

His assistant wore a Hiawatha suit

And on her head he’d place a fruit

But never apples for this William Tell

More likely pumpkins, his aims not well

Poor Nigel.

She retired complaining about the cuts

And one door opens when another shuts

So Nigel - blindfold in hand

Approached the circus drunked band

Hoping the man on the Sousaphone

Would not be chilled to the bone

By the prospect of standing still

While giving the audience a thrill

Foolish Nigel.

He retired one day to Lee-on-Sea

To work within the factory

Where rock is made with letters through

Spelling out things for you

And there he mixed confectionary

His secret safe, for ’twas he

One day had slaughtered an Elephant

Dispatched by his shaking hand

Oh Nigel.

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