Original Song Title:
Parody Song Title:
Trip. . . .
Speaking, though the sound of it's
Worse than Midwest through noses
(Like someone with psychosis),
Falling to the ground and rolling round
And spouting "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.
Their screams absurd; they seem perturbed.
Back on earth, 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!"
He traveled 'round and found this girl--
He'd jilted that Joe gent
(She looked a lot like Tina Fey)--
For his vice president.
The dude went to Alaska
And said, "Won't you come with me,
Help me placate the base?
You'll play great to red-state crazies.
So. . .
Calls herself a killer cur
With glycerin-glossed rose lips.
Even though her bridge shtik's bullsh!t,
She persists with those quips.
Bun- fiddle, -fiddle, -fiddle, bun-fiddle, "Ai!"
Bun triple-, triple-, triple-, bun triple-high.
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.
Mousser/mooser-gal-Alaskan-his-pick-extreme pal-he-chose is
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