LYRIC FOR SALE

By roger blount

From the edge of his own sanity
he planned it with such clarity
How the murder would be done
How he himself would kill someone.

He had been misunderstood
so, for the greater human good
a royal man should be dead and gone
Henri, the Prince of Orleans

Like a wily old crow
Nobody could know
The mind of the smiling assassin

He pulled on his boots and buttoned his coat
and waited alone for the Prince’s boat
Gazing out at the mist shrouded lake
he twiddled his knife and chewed Red Man cake

In the empty hours two funnels appeared
and soon the paddle steamer neared
its pontoon on Geneva’s shore
Then off they stepped the rich and poor

Like the Venerable Bede
Nobody could read
The face of the smiling assassin

A handsome woman dressed as a man
hiding her beauty ‘neath an ivory fan
Shuffled along by the waterside
remembrin’ the day when she was a bride

Sisi married the Emperor twice her age
then lived her life in a gilded cage
She wept raw emotion every night
‘til finally she and her maid took flight

Like a stalker of deer
Nobody could hear
The steps of the smiling assassin

Forsaking the role of Franz Joseph’s wife
Sisi travelled in search of the meaning of life
Through Europe and England to Scarborough Fair
Incognito everywhere

She met Romany gypsies and African queens
and ate magic mushrooms and borlotti beans
Thinking luck would never leave her
she boarded a ferry to tranquil Geneva

Like a scarlet pimpernel
Nobody could smell
The breath of the smiling assassin

Luigi raged and cursed and swore out loud
The prince was nowhere in the crowd
Henri had changed his travel plans
He was journeying to the Netherlands

Searching for another fall guy
he saw a man with a maid walk by
Sisi’s death wish was soon to come true
The knife pierced her heart and she turned blue

Expressionlessly
Nobody could see
The lips of the smiling assassin

To the gentle murmur of faraway bells
Luigi was frog-marched down to the cells
When they told him that it was Sisi he’d killed
he laughed and cried he was so thrilled

His fate was sealed and so was his fame
Everyone would remember his name
For court he dressed smartly – Savile Row style
and for the newspapers he kept up his smile

Like a Catherine Wheel
Nobody could feel
The joy of the smiling assassin

The strange joy of the smiling assassin