Canterville

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