A frank album closer to say the least, My Mummys Dead brought John Lennons debut to its bitter conclusion with arguably as much choked anguish as penultimate track God, making for one hell of a double-bill on the tear-jerking front. Admittedly, there isnt much in it beyond the title other than a few other lyrical diversions, but its the pain in Johns voice; the solemnity of the lone acoustic guitar behind it; the muffled, bluesy production that gives it the quality of an old Robert Johnson master tape that make the track so heart-breaking. The subject of Johns regret for the fractured relationship with his mother has been touched on elsewhere, but the lack of poetic complexity in My Mummys Dead is ultimately its true poetry. A wonderfully tragic scrap of ingenuous reflection. Length: 0:52