Sabrina Constance

The polysyllabic scribblings of an indulgent, long-winded craftswoman; an elegy to primal, substantive literature.

“‘MAD DOG’ Sampson”

[Verse 1]
Well they call him Mad Dog, Shane Sampson by name
Ran this whole town like a backroom card game
Mayor for life, or so he declared
With his jet-black wig and that moustache he wears

[Verse 2]
Took a bribe for a pool, and a hot tub too
City funds vanished like a magician’s ruse
He said, “It ain’t crime if you do it with charm,
While asleep on the bench with a beer in his arm

[Chorus]
Mad Dog, Mad Dog, dreamin’ through the noise
Fake hair shining while he’s nappin’ with the boys
Council’s in chaos, but he don’t give a damn
Long as there’s beer and a flight to Lausanne

[Verse 3]
Switzerland’s sweet with its mountains and cheese
He’d vanish for weeks, call it “mayoral leave
Back in town with a cuckoo clock grin
Skunk beer in hand, sayin’ “Let’s do it again!

[Bridge]
He wore a sash that read “Still In Command
Even when he drooled on the zoning plan
Folks begged, “Retire! Just call it a day!”
But Mad Dog just winked, “I’m here to stay.”

[Chorus]
Mad Dog, Mad Dog, king of the scam
Snoozin’ through crises like a one-man jam
Sippin’ that brew from a brown paper can
With a Swiss bank smile and a five-year plan

[Verse 4]
They found receipts in a chocolate box
One for a bribe, one for Botox
But no one could catch him, he always slipped
Like a weasel in a tux on a power trip

So raise a toast to the legend, the rogue in disguise,
With ink-black hair and mischief in his eyes.
And if you hear snorin’ down City Hall way…
Don’t wake Mad Dog. He’s dreamin’ of Bern today.

Mad Dog, Mad Dog, asleep at the wheel
But you gotta admit, the man had appeal…
In a weird, slightly tragic, backroom deal kind of way.