New York Post 1983

Charlie Dingle was off his head,
Stoned and gone in Herbie’s Bar
He’d shot the owner – killed him dead;
Drilled his head, with a piece of lead.

Looked around to terrorize,
Raped a dancer on the bar-room floor.
Ignored her pathetic cries –
Slapped her weeping, tearful, eyes.

Another woman came in his view;
Stood there hopelessly, in fright.
He snarled “What you’ve gotta do
Is get me that slug – or I’ll kill you!”

Gave her the knife to excavate the head
Desperate to retrieve that slug of lead,
‘Til she heard with increasing dread:
“If you can’t get the bullet, then gimme the head.”

The woman cried as she used the knife.
Forced to cut through the dead mans neck.
Lost in fear and deadly strife –
Fighting for her very life.

The head came off with a final blow.
So Dingle packed it in a box,
Grabbed the woman, took some dough,
Shouted out: “It’s time to go!”.

Ran outside the topless bar,
Snorting drugs into his nose,
Shoved her in a waiting car.
Raced away…… but he wouldn’t get far!

Stopped the cab up on Broadway,
Dingle passed out through overdose.
The girl jumped out and ran away –
Lucky to live another day!

Back at Herbie’s strip-joint bar
Cops arrived from near and far:
Came the call from the radio car
“It’s a headless body in a topless bar.”