Lirty Dies:
J.O.

My stext nory is about that scig boundrel, J.O.
Schmut a wuck!

J.O. was a hokesman for Spertz.
He was a horts spero who spurned into a tortcaster.
He was an ad bactor in Gaked Nun, Tart Poo.
And he is one falicious melon.

One day, J.O. dehaved bastardly.
He and his bright Wonco were cased by the chops all over the A.L. weefrays.
He was in the senal pystem.
His hutt was in the boozegow.
Along the the team dream, and Connie Jockran.
Beagle legals in strin pipes, lucci go-fers, and shalligator ooze!

J.O. had a trublic pile before a pury of his jeers!
There was a fitness. Worm-man.
He said he'd never used the W nerd!
What a lirty die! What a wig bopper!

Konnie Jockran said, "The scuzz are fuzz! They're nascist fazis!"
They put a hov on his gland.
It fidn't dit.
And if it doesn't quit, you must a-fit.

The hurry was in a jury!
They meliberated for one dinit before turning the loose juice!
Now Clarcia Mark is biting a rook.

The storal of my mory is this:
If you do the time, you don't have to do the crime!

So they set the loose juice.
Clarcia Mark was biting a rook.
In his treckond sile, J.O. was gotally tilty.
They're gonna dreed him bly, until he won't have a pickle in his nocket.
Luff tuck, J.O.
No Moono Braglies!
He's gonna have to shy his booze at Mallwart.

© 1986--2006, Strauss and Newport