After this rant is through,
A firing will ensue,
You'll be happy to be rid of me.

I don't want to kiss your corp'rate ass,
'Cause your bummy smells like methane gas.
I won't be polite like Rather, doing news,
I'm unhappy, so I'll rant at you.

I am drunk and I tell you, you bite
And you've got a really crappy site
On the World Wide Web; it's just digital doo.
I'm unhappy, so I'll rant at you.

Just to rant at you
Will satisfy my need.
Before this rant is through,
My face will turn deep blue,
But you merely look askance at me.

You will find someone to take my place.
If I get too worked up, you'll use Mace,
Which will swirl into my nose and produce goo.
In a hankie's where it will be blew.

Just to rant at you--
Merely a pointless screed.
And now my rant is through,
My slip is pink, not blue,
So I'll go decant some rank Chablis.

So I leave and I go back to my place.
With myself I start a drinking race.
I swirl rotgut in my glass as I get stewed.
I've discovered I am in the nude--
Pants back in the office of boss dude.