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Song Parodies -> "Boor Meme-tweeting Fantasies"

Original Song Title:

"Bohemian Rhapsody"

Original Performer:


Parody Song Title:

"Boor Meme-tweeting Fantasies"

Parody Written by:

John A. Barry

The Lyrics

His shtik’s unreal tripe…
twitturd mendacity.
A landslide of lies…
pure escape from reality.

Opened her thighs,
engaged in carnality,
then birthed a boor boy, devoid of empathy.
The boy was really dumb, really slow.
Prone, now, to buying ’ho’s.
From his mouth just wind blows;
nothing from it has veracity.

Mother got knocked up and
popped out a kid whose wigged head
has something for brains instead.
Mother, why’d you have this son,
who “grew up” to throw the country away?!

Mother’s boo-boo
is now making many cry,
because his actions are causing true sorrow.
Natters on, rambles on,
because of scrambled gray matter.

Too late—nothing was done
when there was precious time—
there was no reason or rhyme.
Goodbyes—many bodies started to go,
while this “leader” was blind to his foe, the truth.

Natters doo (from his maw just wind blows)—
every word a lie.
It’s a crime this slime ever was born at all.

Lie-tweets the fibber filled with dreck faux—chronic scam:
scary dude, scary ’tude; maladministration blows.
Bunglers, dopes, non-bright twits
greatly blighting the country.

Ghastly aholes, nasty aholes,
gag-me wasteholes, grabby aholes, gabby brayholes,
fibs they grow…
mad twitturd d’oh!.

He lusts in whore joy, but loves only he.
He’s got impure boys: criminal family.
We’ve not been spared from this monstrosity.

Tweeter dunce, sleazy schmoe, swill he tweets is faux.
Bullsh*tter: All he tweets and utters, faux (it’s all faux)
Batsh*t scourge: All he tweets and mutters, faux (it’s all faux)
Full ’sh*t scourge: All he tweets and mumbles, faux (it’s all faux)
Just hot air he blows (hot air blows)
Blows, faux, so faux, faux….

Faux memer-tweeter, mad Grim Reaper, dreamworld-tweeter and smoke-blow.
Beating the drum for a med’s benefits’ unlikely reality.

He had hung with that Stone freak and other crook kinds.
The only hon he loves, she’s with Krookner slime.
(“Oh, baby, I’d make it with you, baby!!”)

Gotta get ’em out, get this Mafia outta here.

Doomed are we as long as they’re around.

Country is in tatters,
thanks to he who tweets.
Country is in tatters…defeat…
till this plague is winnowed.

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