he was a big lady
he had a big red bag
he swung it high
then he swung it low
he swung it all over the show
he had big boots
with big ol' heels
with which he kicked some heads
and stomped on the reds
his upper lip bristled
when he got cranky
it was most clearly unwaxed
or his patience was taxed
he sat atop a gilted throne
and peered down at the plebs
begging and beseeching
flailing and screeching
he demanded tribute and gold
to be brought from all around
the smifs from round your way
and the canstandyas over the bay
he needs no plebiscite to rule
twas gods that put him there
they spoke to him alone
on that rocky outcrop
did tell him he werent no common slop
he'll reign til kingdom come
til the 4 goats of armagedden it
pishting lens, whore, fame and def jam
they will wreak havoc and this erf
and take him up alone, or maybe with a serf
wot rot...
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