Three Davids
Smooth and feline, quick to purr,
Whiskers tidy, quite a mewer,
Frostie’s victims were not sure
When he’d stuck them with a skewer.
Jacobs, though, was dapper, suaver,
At odds with all the beat group fury –
No hint within of molten lava:
The gentleman of Juke Box Jury.
The other David, still at large,
Has fur, but you can hear him hiss;
Is tidy, but as smooth as marge,
Despite his being Hit or Miss.
Jacobs, Cameron and Frost:
Two of them we cannot save.
The third, we feel, could just get lost –
The only one we’d know as Dave.
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