A song for Bob Woolmer a.k.a " The Murder Of Bob Woolmer"

Bob Woolmer went to his hotel room
Shook his hands with the hands of doom
Slow dripping panic sweat, a cold embrace
Bats hurled, ropes twirled, your non Jamaican taste

Outside the Irish won
Beer mugs were on the run
The Kiwis were setting fire
While the crescent moon lowered

Chorus:
A "large man" they say he was
"Manual strangulation" was the cause
"No signs of forced entry" they say
Don't let the killers get away
No, No
Don't let the killers get away

Bob Woolmer left the World cup in disarray
Leading the super eight forecasts to go astray
While Indian media reports arrest in a haste
a murder mystery , a gossip theory, your typical Bollywood taste

A pity no one was there
No angels soaring in the air
No more days of match fixing
But the days of throat slitting

Chorus:
A "large man" they say he was
"Manual strangulation" was the cause
"No signs of forced entry" they say
Don't let the killers get away
No, No
Don't let the killers get away