Original Song Title:
Parody Song Title:
Speaking, though the sound of it's
Worse than Midwest through noses
(Like someone with psychosis),
Falling to the ground and rolling round
And mouthing "gnosis."
It's utter nonsense what they speak;
They yawl and squall—it's sad.
They're standing, then their knees go weak;
They fall and all go mad.
You sure won't hear an earthbound word
Emerging from their throats
It seems absurd; they seem perturbed.
Recovered, though, she goes
Field-dresses the beast,
Leaves its ungular pseudo-toeses,
Hauls it from the bush,
Fires up the stove. . .
Says grace; chose Moses.
Some ersatz exegetics. . .Exodus lines.
"Yum vittles, vittles, vittles, yum, vittles, dine!"
And when she wraps her bundled bun,
Oh how to make this stay?
Some slurry serves to gird
This hirsute structure—it shan't sway.
"But better 'do' it carefully"
Says stubbly hubby, "wife!"
She slathers on that slimy stuff
With shiny hunting knife.
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