Cookie (Eric Cooke) (Maximum Perversion)

He might shoot you in the head
His stolen car might run you down
Fill your suburb full of dread
Erratic M.O. makes policemen frown

Eric Cooke; seven lives he took
By hook or by crook, youʼre dead in his book
Undressing inside, youʼre under his eyes
You wonʼt even know it, when your life expires
Then heʼll cavort about with your corpse
His victims lay slumped; heʼs got police stumped
Heʼs gonna have fun with cars, knives and guns
Youʼd best lock your door in case “Cookie” comes

Cooke would break in to your home
And watch you getting into bed
He will hide and have a wank
Or maybe he might shoot you dead

Eric calling in the night...
Eric giving you a fright...
Eric peeping in your room...
Eric causing Perth much gloom...
Eric moving all ʻround town...
Eric shooting people down...
Ericʼs dad had beat him real bad...
There were reasons he was very mad

E. Edgar Cooke - the murderous crook
Heʼs the family guy who made people die
Men and women of any age
Could not escape his deadly rampage
Such a good knack, for hiding his crimes
This crime spree did last for considerable time

Eric got caught!...
The night-callerʼs blunder was hiding his gun
Under a Geraldton wax, which somebody saw
Police pounced on Cooke
And his spree was cut short
He pleaded guilty for some crimes
Though two innocent men did jail time
In 1964 Eric hung