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Song Parodies -> "To Rites He Bore Witness"

Original Song Title:

"The Night Before Christmas"

Original Performer:

Clement Clarke Moore

Parody Song Title:

"To Rites He Bore Witness"

Parody Written by:

John A. Barry

The Lyrics

’twas to rites he bore witness, in halls of the House:
Squalling creatures, jerks worthless; most all thieving-soused.
The shocking scene stung eyes, his vision fixed there:
Dim dopes, a taint sickly, yet boons they had snared.

Small children less feckless than this Bund of dread…
Vile kingdom of super dumb…blankness of head.
It’s Mammon that they worship while bagging the swag.
Most were bereft of brains; porkshit stench made him gag.

Such a grotesque spawn…through each nose dripped gray matter
That splashed where they tread; very small was the splatter.
They waste time and wind-blow while accruing cash,
Whores groping to mutter a few words not trash.

These goons aren’t the best, all a huge ball of “D’oh!!”
Craven sluts cravin’ big pay of lobbyist dough.
These crooks to his much-jaundiced eyes, it was clear,
Are all sinecure slaves and rate high in reign-fear.

Dripping spittle while lying,…so jivey their shtik,
A crew fixed to foment a bust, their brains sick.
More vapid than evil is often their game.
Rancid dimwits, clan clownish, appalling, no shame.

Clowns, bagmen, louts, skank-bent; soused back-licks that sicken;
Cause vomit on viewin’…pall what Founders’d written.
Stooges, flops smoochin’ corps groove that’s on top of balls—
Chowed back that way, fast that way, crack-splayed…tongue awl.

Rank creeps and thief-whores, a vile slurry stain dried.
To what’s mete they’re an obstacle; clowns naught but lied.
Mugging bunch of Houseflops, thick and boorish crew.
Dicks will slay fully joy, cankered brains viscous goo.

They ain’t got an inkling that they’re scourging goofs.
Their grab-swag vile urgin’s helped him see the proof.
It’s a crew all should dread as they’re burning up pounds,
Mounds of money; they’re rippin’ us off…tearin’ down.

Freakish mess, all for perks, dumb of head, too nous*-moot.
Maws not closed, scourge-all blah fest. Shtik, dampen—do mute!
They bungle with ploys as they skulk and attack
Those who look and cry: “Ethics it’s shown these licks lack!”

Of lies they are brimful, their wickedness, scary.
When cheeks they’re not nosed in, they hose us—be wary!
Backholes and their mouths: a difference drawn? No!
It is clear that they’re not in not light or the know.

There’s junk and there’s tripe spilling right past their teeth,
Blowing smoke in a circle jerk; blight they bequeath.
They bull’ to your face; what they propound is smelly—
Damn crooked, rank swag-swipes and blowholes so yelly.

They are clumsy and dumb, frightful folly; for wealth,
Bags of cash in a vault is what they vie for…pelf.
They’re pigs in a sty, and citizens they’ve bled.
Sows bray bunk, smoke-blow; but it’s nothing they’ve said.

They crow worthless words from their gaping mouths’ girth
And fill us with schlock…a dearth of any worth.
They prey while their fingers to us high they’ve rose,
And these digits “talk”: “Up yours!” is what they disclose.

This land’s doomed as they bequeath little but gristle.
They’re a takeaway crew…slyly shout loud mutt whistles.
Sluts, a herd that vex-pains, hairy holes, louts, thug blight.
Mangy grifters loot-haul and screw all with hood rites.
Mangy grifters mooch-trawl and screw all, left and right.












*the mind or intellect

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