A Poem (skit)

i>spoken:
Clyde:
What you writin'?

Bonnie:
I'm writin' a poem, about us.

Clyde:
Yeah?

Bonnie:
Uh huh!

Clyde:
Lemme hear it. Come on.

Bonnie:
After this, let me finish this line.

Um, it's called The Story of Bonnie and Clyde

You've heard the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died
If you're still in need
Of something to read
Here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang
I'm sure you all have read
How they rob and steal
And those who squeal
Are usually found dying or dead.

They call them cold-hearted killers
They say they are heartless and mean
But I say this with pride
That I once knew Clyde
When he was honest and upright and clean.

But the laws fooled around
Kept taking him down
And locking him up in a cell
Till he said to me
"I'll never be free
So I'll meet a few of them in hell."

If a policeman is killed in Dallas
And they have no clue to guide
If they can't find a fiend
They just wipe their slate clean
And hang it on Bonnie and Clyde.

If they try to act like citizens
And rent them a nice little flat
About the third night
They're invited to fight
By a sub-gun's rat-a-tat-tat.

Some day they'll go down together
And they'll bury them side by side
To few it'll be grief
To the law a relief
But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.