This is something I wrote way back in as a sophomore in high school for a lark. Not serious in the slightest. But, it is proof that I did ONCE ryme!

Elvis is Dead
Oakwood

Elvis is dead,
Elvis is gone.
He can't dance again,
He can't sing a song.

He can't comb his hair,
He can't swing his hips.
He can't wear a cape,
He can't curl his lips.

So all you people,
Who say he's alive,
Dig up his grave,
And look inside.

You'll find a dead Elvis,
And you'll know that it's true:
Elvis is dead,
Elvis is through.

© WAAAAAAAAAY back in 1993 (whew!)
Originally published in One, 1994