I am not the great John, bold and zany,
many-talented, a fun man, brainy,
brought up in Liverpool, shot in New York
before he had properly finished his work.
No, I am Ringo, I bang my drum,
Rumpety tum tara-bam-bam boom.
Nor am I Paul, the emotional one,
his wives and music never done,
went on to Classical after Wings,
with Standing Stone and some other fine things.
No, I am Ringo and I bang my drum,
Rumpety tum tara-bam-bam boom.
Then there 's George who died of cancer,
no, I am not that appealing chancer
whose wife took a lamp and lamped an intruder
and who fell for the Maharashi and Buddha.
No, I am Ringo and I bang my drum,
Rumpety tum tara-bam-bam boom.
I am not so famous as all the rest
though I kept them together with my rhythm and zest.
I am wealthy enough and I live pretty well
but who the hell am I? Who can tell?
Yes, I am Ringo and I bang my drum,
Tara-tara-tara-tara rumpety tum.
Sally Evans
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ringo-s-song-beatles/
