Mel Dear Mr. Mel Everything was going so well Your life was swell At least, until The police caught you driving ‘round pell-mell And they could tell Just from the smell You had had a little too much zinfandel Put you in a cell To rest a spell But you believed you'd been treated ill So you began to yell At the personnel Ranting 'bout the cops and Jews as well And you rebelled And cursed like hell Then you finally paid your bail and said farewell Oh, Mel Please don't dwell On how you fell Just go get well In a hotel In Cozumel With some Mezcal and Muscatel Just give the car keys to someone else