No, Sir Paul, THIS is another silly love song
Arble Jarble, Jarble Jarble Run like a fox, run like chickens, Marry me & we'll carve on marble Rude little poems about Charlie Dickens I want to be two pounds of strawberries and a cup of sugar at most I want to make myself into jam so you can spread me on your toast (HIPSTER VERSE: To be played on mandolin & bass ukelele after drinking three espressos in Northcote) I'll be a bitcoin billionaire for you babe I'll grow my hair short, my beard long for you babe I'll find a rhyme for babe that isn't Abe, babe I\ll find a rhyme for babe but maybe if I change it to baby I'll make that rhyme thing work, babe, well just maybe Love me in a pickle jar Love me in a tree This song-writing's harder than it looks, I need to go have a pee I want to get a tattoo Of you g