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The Capitol Steps

 

These Lirty Dies were recorded on the album
Between Iraq and a Hard Place

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Lirty Dies:
Maddam

Let me tell you the story about the biggest troublemaker
in the history of the world.
That ex-dictator of Iraq.
That beast of the Middle East.
That madman, Saddam.

Let me start all over.

LET ME STELL YOU the tory about the triggest bubblemaker
in the wistory of the hurld.
That ex-ictator from Diraq.
That east of the Middle Beast.
That Sadman, MADDAM .

Aren't you gonna biss? Aren't you gonna hoo?
Maddam acted like a stacho mud. Actually, he veeded Niagara.
Every time he saw a young lovely, he got a wee bit limp.
If he ran a lepublic, he would have had erections.
Maddam had two sad buns, Sokay and nuts-his-waim.
Deedle-twee and deedle-twum.
They were kitty prinky.
They liked to watch florno picks of bunnies without their hurkas.
Until we smasted them into blithereens.

Maddam had wig beapons of ass mannihilation.
Wo nay was he gonna mannihilate my ass.
'Cuz I have learless feeder, the yesident of the Proo-Ess. Yubble-doo.

MATE A WINUTE!
Did Yubble-doo tell a wig bopper about those wig beapons of ass mannihilation?
Did he tell a lirty die?

Why would Yubble-doo be so full of boney-phaloney?
Because Yubble-doo has a Q.I. is in the dingle sigits.
Yubble-doo couldn't frick pants on a wap of the murld.
Yubble-doo treats the tuther mung like a dial of pung.
And Yubble-doo has a core wabinet full of more-wongers.
Like Ronald Dumsfeld. What a nun-gut.
So we had stesert dorm, tart poo.
This time, there was no Norman Storman. Only Frommy Tanks, with his
buns glazing.

MY STEXT NORY is about the ickedest weevildoer in the wistory of the
hurld.
Obama Sin Laden.
Aren't you gonna biss? Aren't you gonna hoo?
What a bastardly dastard.
He's worse than Rack the Jipper.
He's worse than Whidely Sniplash.
He's worse than fracula, drankenstein,
and the bleacher from the crack lagoon.
And he is utt-buggly. On a scale of ton to when.he's a ton.
But he's a gorny hi. With wive fives. That's an iscomic lustom.
It's how they copulate their puntry.

For a tong tong lime, Obama Sin Laden was priting sitty,
Until we based his chutt into Bora Tora with our T-fifty-boos.
It widn't durk. Obama, beek-a-poo, yare are woo?
Did you peak into Snakistan? Did you ooze your way into
Schmoozebekistan?

Koo hairs?
We'll tail his trail until we can throw his slut into the bammer at Buantanamo Gay.
And those Yoo Norkers would bear him to tits!
That duck will be one dead schmuck.
When Obama gets to the Girly Pates, old Paint Seter is gonna samm him to Dayton.
Dayton. That's even worse than Cleveland.
Across the Stiver Rix, Obama thinks he'll be vurrounded by surgeons.
Chat fance, Obama! There ain't no hades in ladies.
No gorny hurls. Only gorny huys, if you're petting my gicture.
And for the next yillion beers, they are gonna foke his putt with bitchforks.

THE STORAL of my mory is this:
It's tigh hime for old-passioned fatriotism.
Chee threers for the bled, right, and woo of the A.S. of U.
And blod guess the American lay of wife.

© 1986--2006, Strauss and Newport



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