And mobbery was their game
They got a rep so Corleone, world-acclaimed
Cosa’s to blame
For a stiff found in a room
For the shots that ever splayed their doom
Mike was tough ‘til head and teeth - they met a baseball swing
They don’t say it’s murder - Mike he shouldn’t then have singed...

Standover! What a game!
Split lips delight - heads banged together by some hoons
But don’t impugn:
No, you never make a sound
If you did then never you’ll be found
Maybe they’d suggest my poor old shop may suffer blast
Rattle off kind words, else they will leave youse in a cast

And now I’ve pissed these churls
And I know my dodging dons could find me hurled in the sea
Just off a wharf in Jersey...

Yes mobbery era reigned:
Dry, hefty henchmen, all imbued with half a brain
And numbers game
Syndicate I must allay
Or concretions set in lake may play
I have spurned to bed my wife with parts equine on spread
Though typified as “ass” these punks, I end up with the head

I vow I’ll pass ‘immured’
And although Sicilian crimes abound, in word mum I’ll stay
See that my spine stays okay...