March 27: Oscar's in the poo ...

Meanwhile down south on the African isle, Oscar is getting some grief in his trial

He girlfriend has left him, she’s gone to the grave, and now it’s his own skin he’s trying to save

One wonders just why he felt such a desire, to hop out of his rack, and to just open fire

Did he not notice that she was not in his bed, or did he have evil thoughts in his head

What would I do if in his shoes, oops, that’s a line I should not have used

But really my friends, what was his aim, was he still in a trance, or was this all a game

If I had a gun, first I’d turn on all the lights, then mount a challenge, “get out here and fight”

What if I missed, which I’m likely to do, and there was a real monster, there in my loo

But no, he let go, and shot up the place, he even woke up his neighbours, a bloody disgrace

He did not even stop to put on his legs, so much unknown, but this question begs

Why would a robber hide in the john, if I was a crook, once he woke I’d be gone

He’s got a flash lawyer, ten grand a day, but I doubt if Roux can make this go away

“Who’s in my crapper” might be a question to ask, before moving on to his pistoling task

“Come out with your pants up, don’t be messing around”, but no, not our Oscar, ten rounds were inbound

Will he be taking the oath and telling his story, be tough I do reckon, he cries at the gory

In the box he's fair game, ripped up limb from limb, oops there I go, I said it again

Who knows what a jury will finally decide, will they treat him like OJ; is he South Africa’s pride

A young man who has made such a fatal mistake, when on that night, his girl's life he did take

I have no idea what will come at the end, but there’s a lesson his conduct to us it should send

If you ain’t got the legs, don’t run to face danger, it might be a loved one, not merely a stranger