It used to be dead men told no tales
Now with DNA they’re singing like birds
A small time Mafioso I bumped off
Broke the Omerta Code after I killed him
Ratted me out to the cops like a traitor
To our sacred Mafia oaths and principles
I should have known no good rat he was
That he’d find one last way to rat me out
After I buried his body in a national park
And a park ranger said he found the body
When that stool pigeon appeared to him
In a dream where I buried him in the park
With my telltale DNA all over his dead body

Bob Boyd