Must they scream so loud?
(Must they screech so loud?)
And apply the bray?
(It's so high, the bray.)
Why can't they just talk?
(Who dreamed up this schlock?)
Though they've naught to say
(Still they bray away).

Take this: you've been warned
(. . .no fury like. . .scorned)--
Down this path is hell's way
(Watch this crap--it's hell day).

Gals'll score ya, screamin'
(Score your eardrums, screamin');
They cluck, these chicks, each day.

Stop them please! Ears hurt;
These lasses long, loud neigh.
Oh, I'll get down on my knees
(Get down on my knees)
And pray they go away
(That they'll go away).
Each one's a screecher and a scold
(Screecher and ahole).
Why do they on air stay?
(Can't they go away?)

Gals'll score your eardrums
(Score your eardrums, screamin');
A clutch of chicks who bray.

Must they screech so loud?
(Must they scream so loud?)
And apply the neigh?
(Horse's asses neigh)
Why's it on, this schlock?
(They need a perp walk)
Mock talk. . .naught to say
(Shock jocks. . .not such bray)

Each chick is a yeller,
Foaming like Old Yeller,
Like a rabid stray
(Pray they go away).

Gals'll sore ya screamin'
(Score your eardrums, screamin');
A clutch of chicks who bray.
Gals'll score your eardrums;
They suck, these chicks, each day.
Gals, a corps of screech yents*.
It sucks, their shtik, each day.


*abbreviation of yentas (shrews)