reltsihW ehTThe Whistler

I met him on my way to work
Whistling my tune
About unlucky butterflies
Flying from a tomb

And ‘twas my tune; he stole it fast
Waiting in my brain
I thought I walked by squealing tracks
Passing under trains

But nothing else did sound by me
Whistler was his name
And ‘twas my tune that he stole fast
Waiting in my brain

If he could choose a body now
Choose another street
He would not be the Whistler Ghost
Humming me a treat