Ballad of Milwaukee
In the ghetto of Milwaukee
Is a place Patrick calls home
A half-hovel with a lien that a man from Oman owns
You may look in vain for daughters and you'll never see a-one
But often between the rising and the setting of the sun
You can hear impotent squealing
As trotters hammer a phone
You can hear menthol winds blowing
Into better wife's fronthole.
John A. Gibney, Richard Prongay, and a hundred contact forms
Thomas Apostle, Dan Mullen
Checkmark gone for evermore.
Science-fiction pedophiles said to Rick S. Thomas
"Take one hundred grand and go
Hire that twink fag Resto."
Well the Pig went to Minc Law
And his eyes shone with glee
And he oinked on Twitter
Assembling fat mutant coterie.
Shane Nokes with his old butter knife
Jackie the street shitter
Stood together rank and file
With Hildy the pedophile.
"You may end up with your own threads, "
Pigger told them that day
"Those who want to can seethe now
Those who lust after kids let 'em stay."
On Twitter they held the line
With the tranny jannies
In all of that dysgenic lot
Not one of them had a job
With brothermen a-dancin'
In Surya's golden light
Rahul Kumar came prancing
On a cow that was black as Bam's cunt.
Sent coked-out lawyers to tell
Patrick to surrender
Patrick answered with a squeal
Thinking he would just appeal
Rahul Kumar turned maroon
"Play motley poo!" he roared
"I will shit in his Susan
Debtor Pig will be put to the sword!"
One fat faggot with bitch tits
Owing fifty thousand
Debtor's exam, payment plan
Pigger bailed and bailed again
Then he sent pro se filing
All retarded and gay
With the contempt case coming
He was worried he'd be forced to pay...
Twice he begged mother-in-law
On the fatal third time
Lynne Robinson loudly screeched
Paid the debt and lawyer fees
Now the Pig is buck broken
And there's rust on his car
And the Tiny Tim novel...
Forgotten in a chasm of lard...
In the ghetto of Milwaukee
At a bar Patrick called home
Sits a funster with voodoo dolls in a corner all alone
And he sees the patrons drinking where a couple years ago
All the fax machines were printing and drunk Polacks used to go
And his eyes are sorta Downy
And his head has a bald patch
As he takes his hat off slowly...
For Pigger has met his match.
To the five long years of glory
To methane in Nikky's snatch...