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Song Parodies -> "Pup Isn't Housebroke"
Original Song Title:
"Up on the Housetop"
Original Performer:
Traditional
Parody Song Title:
"Pup Isn't Housebroke"
Parody Written by:
John A. Barry
The Lyrics
Pup isn't housebroke; raging jaws
Rend my rugs and sacked gewgaws.
I chide the canine and chime, "Bad boy!"
He searches for places to deploy.
CHORUS
"No, no, no!" I tell him no!
Goes, goes goes where tread my toe-es.
Pup isn't housebroke--sh*ts, sh*ts, sh*ts
Into the chemise that my mate knits.
Burst forth, the droppings, it seems they fell
Everywhere but in the well.
I hope I don't step on a surprise--
For pooch poo and pee I'll peel my eyes.
CHORUS
I find "pet rocks" in my socks--they're full.
Shouldn't have got a pit bull,
Favored by dealers of meth and crack.
Whistle for him--unprovoked he attacks!
"No, no, no!" I tell him no!
Goes, goes, goes, goes for the thro-oat.
Pummeled, by mouth's broke--rips, rips, rips
Off my ears, nose, mustache, cheeks, and lips.
Rend my rugs and sacked gewgaws.
I chide the canine and chime, "Bad boy!"
He searches for places to deploy.
CHORUS
"No, no, no!" I tell him no!
Goes, goes goes where tread my toe-es.
Pup isn't housebroke--sh*ts, sh*ts, sh*ts
Into the chemise that my mate knits.
Burst forth, the droppings, it seems they fell
Everywhere but in the well.
I hope I don't step on a surprise--
For pooch poo and pee I'll peel my eyes.
CHORUS
I find "pet rocks" in my socks--they're full.
Shouldn't have got a pit bull,
Favored by dealers of meth and crack.
Whistle for him--unprovoked he attacks!
"No, no, no!" I tell him no!
Goes, goes, goes, goes for the thro-oat.
Pummeled, by mouth's broke--rips, rips, rips
Off my ears, nose, mustache, cheeks, and lips.
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Voting Results
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Voting Breakdown
The following represent how many people voted for each category.
| Pacing | How Funny | Overall Rating | |||||||||
| 1 | 0 | 1 | 1 | ||||||||
| 2 | 0 | 0 | 0 | ||||||||
| 3 | 0 | 0 | 0 | ||||||||
| 4 | 1 | 0 | 0 | ||||||||
| 5 | 5 | 5 | 5 |
User Comments
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sounds like the dog peeing is the LEAST of your problems
Definetly, 555.
off to the dog pound! 555
Now you're a candidate for one of those new face transplants.
Thanks, Alvin, Carol, Rick--I smell "I'm Growing a Custom-Made Face."
Good rhyming with the original, and funny.
I'll be dropping you some 5's.
I think you should get a whole new face.
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