I come from the Kennedy compound
where mister when you're rich
They really don't care if i go off & kill some bitch
Me and Mary Jo Kopechne hooked up at a party
when she was just twenty- nine
We'd ride out of that party, me hoped up on rum, coke & perhaps a little wine

We'd go down to the Dike Bridge
And into the pond we'd drive
Oh down in Poucha Pond we'd ride

Then I got Mary Jo killed
at the bottom of what my drunken mind thought was a moat
And in my inebriated state I got a dead mistress and a water drenched coat
I swam to the shoreline
hoping the water would put it all to rest
No guilty conscience No moral distress
but hey, unlike Clinton i didn't leave some spunk on her dress

That night we went down to Dike Bridge
And into the pond we'd drive
Oh down in Poucha Pond we did ride

I spent 9 whole hours devising my lie for her eventual discovery
But luckily everyones thoughts were on the worsening economy
Now at the time the cover-up seemed so important
Well mister, when you're filthy rich you don't have to care
Now I just act like I don't remember
Mary jo, she's fighting for air

But I remember us riding in my brand new car
Her body terrified and screaming as i contemplated lighting a cigar
At night on them banks I'd lie awake
and laugh, mentally picturing every dying breath she'd take
Now those memories never come back to haunt me
perhaps you think that's a tad perverse
Do you blame me a drunken Kennedy
Or is it just the "Kennedy Curse"
I send my servants down to the liquor store
thankfully I'll never be dry
I send them down to get massive alcohol tonight
yet i still think of Poucha Pond
my now ex-girlfriend and I
Oh down in the pond we drive