Canterville
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When the little dog goes pick pack pock And the little owl goes a-flitter flack flock It's dark in the woods and the clouds go plock And the people in the cafes have forgotten how to talk Still the little druggies go a-score score score Bargain hunters want for more, more, more But a shitty little dick is still a bore, bore, bore Night and day And who's this dingaling at our doorbell? An old cataclysm we know all too well Poke its shitty little dick into new fresh hell The cripplehorse ghost of Canterville Who's this shitting now through my letterbox? A puddy little chicken tat in boxer socks Rub its little nose in a little hemlock And hope it soon dies of a toxic shock Never pick a fight with a bot-faced man You'll get thrashed, chop chop chop And we'll all work together in a labour camp But never never titter at the Kommandant You can never sleep it off And you're never off sick But it's better than a poke in the eye with a stick You're a naughty boy, you spoodge in a sock Off with your fingers now, chop chop chop! I read it in the paper, how old Duke Huck Jumped from the tower by the aqueduct He was spotted by a plane spraying pesticides But they always cover up suicides And who's this ringing at our doorbell? An old cataclysm we know all too well Poke its shitty little dick into new fresh hell The cripplehorse ghost of Canterville Singing for its supper at our doorbell That old cataclysm we know all too well Poke its shitty little dick into new fresh hell The cripplehorse ghost of Canterville
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Credits
- Writers
- Momus