Yes I'm still stuck on you,
the way I was when I was about twelve
and you were, well a bit older than me
but so gorgeous with your dark, dark eyes
full curled lips and that floppy hair.
The way you moved to the music
made me blush and feel things
I'd never felt before, or probably since -
though some years later I tried
to get my boyfriend to look like you,
be like you (shame he couldn't sing like you)
and we did give each other teddy bears
in honour of that song; but I think he knew
it was your teddy bear I really wanted to be,
and not his.
You will never know I painted you
as you were towards the end -
it was the first painting I ever sold
and some poor man bought it for his wife.
I didn't like to tell him she would probably
have much preferred the young slim you
on her wall - swivel-hips and everything -
but typical me, I have never been able to
paint beauty so I did it My Way,
exaggerating your puffy, bloated face,
crying over every brush stroke as I worked.
But still I loved you and now on your
whatever-it-is birthday, I can look at your
youthful self on my brand-new calendar,
listen to that deep velvet voice singing the words
I'm saying to you now - I'm stuck on you,
still stuck on you...so happy birthday
Elvis, wherever you are.