I get riled up too easily. And yes, the plagiariasm is very much intentional*, and intended to be a true imitation of rock's Wilde.

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Stagger Lee,
Stagger Lee,
Class is not found
In the words your mother never taught you
(Though four is a fine number).
"Why was it dead?", you asked him
Because you are dead to him
And don't you wonder
Why in Bangladesh they say
You unchaste fool
You are dead to us
So shelve your heavenly plans
It's hard enough when you belong.

Part II
You are sick in the head
It is true, and I am sad
For I know no cure
But I do know you are false
And so I wish you no luck
Only that swift justice be dealt.

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* But you know, it isn't meant to be one of those novelty things; it is a perfectly serious (even if deliberately excessive) statement on my part. It somehow felt right to use the lines I did - no doubt similar to what the man himself feels when he does his writing. The words of "Cemetry Gates" are ringing in my ears, but I hope I will be forgiven this indiscretion.