Be my Billie

Staggering like a drunken monkey

Stuffed into purple shine

Forklifted down to the groundlings

Your screech turns to honey

Standing precarious, tottering

A wound-up rag dolly

Treacle oozing from your lips again

The crowd wanting you bad

Just one slip of the hat and bam

Elbow flies then forearm swings

You waver slightly and return

To form still no worse for wear

Your syrup sweeter and thicker

Sticks as the clockwork runs down

Your beehive intact

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Amy Winehouse gives Glastonbury her best shot:

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