-> "The Gore-Thirst Sang"
Original Song Title:
"The First Lord's Song"
Parody Song Title:
"The Gore-Thirst Sang"
The guy’s name is Vlad, he’ll make you squirm
After you’ve engaged his attorney’s firm.
Dark midday windows and chronic coughin’ snore (that’s a homophonic chore)
Should give knowledge that his man’ll want to swig some gore.
He says “habeas corpus” so knowingly;
Discovery informs you: he’s from Hungary.
He says “habeas corpus” like Lugosi;
Your fetching neck, he gazes at it hungrily.
The office boy has a troubling mark
On his glugged jugular, and his eyes are dark.
By contrast, his skin looks mighty blanched,
Lacking tan, as if Bram’s vamp clamped, champed and the lad’s lanced.
Your corporeal features he longs to see—
Your rosy throat, he gazes at it hungrily.
He hopes to open your gorge so lustily;
You’ll soon regret that you acted so trust-ingly.
Making lawyer jokes is a fun game,
It’s an easy profession to defame.
Some lawyers have expensive cars and suits,
Because they have bled you dry and scarfed up all your loot.
They pass the bar exam, then bleed metaphorically,
But in the case of this law firm, it’s literally.
With some self-examination, retrospectively,
The kid quips wittily: “Wish he’d not bitten me!”
Your legal colleague first gets a lethal grip;
He calls you “partner” as he starts to sip.
At this point, you wish that he’d been weaned--
Your pinpoint-stripe collar now need be cleaned.
He’s messed up your shirt so ruddily,
The last thing that you want is to dress grungily.
He gives a caress that’s so cuddly
Because on your carotid he fressed spongily.
Your blood’s so rich. . .streams from the vent,
Your sockets look burrowed; you’ve got pallorment.
His throat is bloated, bolstering your pall.
When he is finished, you will be at his beck and call.
He’s down to spittle; a drainee trainee
Is your role till you have bloodsucking mastery.
He’s downed liquid vittles—”B” repast spree,
You’ll swill your fill and take bloodsucking past theory.
A wan man, you no more act sanguinely,
At night you sop it up sanguinarily.
Your soul has become fettered and you are a ghoul,
Piehole’s full of red wetness—hemoglobin drool.
You now are going for it jugularly,
You quit your day job, ’cause you live nocturnally.
You are making a change professionally;
You now have credentials to be an attorney.
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|How Funny: ||4.5|
|Overall Rating: ||4.2|
|Total Votes: ||4|
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