Gunk flares under the sea,
Sludge flares, thanks to BP.
The crud will blacken golden sands
And slop on the ships that go sailin’.

Gunk’s flares up on the sea;
Sheen’s there thanks to BP.
Some birds that fly are gonna die,
Dive straight into harm,
Feathers failin’.

Oil’s far beyond booms’ bars;
It’s near bayous, lagoons.
Post-blow, it’s pourin’ out—
“Drill!” barkers may change their tunes.

’twill wreak upon the shore
Havoc. . .Valdez or more.
Crappin’ the sea is British P.
Not clever, these gents, who’re now failing.

Post-blow, it’s gushing out;
“Drill!” barks are foiled for some loons.
’twill beat upon the shore
And risk an albacore.
Crappin’ the sea now is BP.
And dead are the men Big Oil’s failin’.

Oil bores failin’,
So wrong, failin’,
Bye-bye, bay ling
Spews on out—capped? Nix!