Chorus:
The putz was squealin' when he sprung
Like dung from Lucifer's rear.
Especially nasty, he had not
Been sent from heaven.

Reddish-pink bawling punk,
Hellish yells hurt nurses' ears.
It looked bad for the country--for sure.
From butt spawned, he was pure ordure.
There was good reason to be very pessimistic.
His clueless mother smiled. . .
Tale straight from bad Levin*.

Lucifer:
That's my hell-bent boy,
He's my hell-sent ploy,
They'll think he'll bring joy,
Those in this thrall.

You'll have to hear him,
You'll have to see him,
And there's nothing that can be done--
Netherworld gave him life.
You'll hear his bullshit
And he will pull tit
To suck the taxpayers' loot.

You'd better fear him,
He is satanic.
He won't do nothin' for no one
'Cept himself, sole.
You'll never hear the truth.


*Ira Levin, author of "Rosemary's Baby."