I'm vexed Ma Bell has gone the way of hominids Neanderthal,
Maternalistic monolith, monopolist, she'd scan the call.
She was the belle of telecom, offspring of Bell, historical.
Her fortunes fell from favor; now her "savior" is hick whores from hell.

Down there in San Antone is where Lone Star phone sharks plot fatter bills,
Their dial tone's grown to many homes; I groaned as they got fatter still.
In fact, if they were a fish, where it feeds there would be bottom views.
I wish they wouldn't feed on me or AT&T. . .rotten news.
I wish they wouldn't feed on me or AT&T. . .rotten news.

These Texans try to tempt us and to prove that they're a pal to us,
We need consent decree that probes SBC, with its thrall to bust.
The rates, just wait, will escalate once SBC Neanderthals
Abate mates that compete; I'll grate my teeth, 'cause there'll be grander thrall.

The rates, just wait, will escalate once SBC Neanderthals
Abate mates that compete; I'll grate my teeth, 'cause there'll be grander thrall.

I roll eyes, they rationalize, nationalize and snare their flock,
To justify their share of pie, there couldn't be a rarer crock
Of shift paradigmatic. Trust-busters with pussy animus
Have dicks pared to nano sticks; butts they lick--they're pusillanimous.

Until this merger we'd heard the belligerent cacophonies
Among Ma Bell and telecom competitors; monopolies
We hoped were remnants of the past, but if this wretched melding's passed,
After this monster takes the lass, customers take it up the *ss.
After this monster takes the lass, customers take it up the *ss.

SBC says, "Listen to me, service will now be uniform--
A one-stop shop, no need to hop around, 'cause that keeps you forlorn."
The rates, just wait, will escalate once SBC Neanderthals
Abate mates that compete; I'll grate my teeth, 'cause there'll be grander thrall.

In San Antone, they say our moanin''s merely mindless cavilin',
But these cowpokes are blowin' smoke; they hoax and rope their chattel in.
They're full of bull; they gull you; then they pull you with their lariat.
No bulls near; just steers; no toros with cojones to parry that.

They've convinced all the cons we voted in down in brain-numb D.C.,
The commission that could commute the nuptials is dumb FCC,
Disemboweled by Michael Powell--lyin' scion maddened me;
He threw the towel in and vowed: "Thou scratch'st my back; I'll fatten thee."

Since Bell yelled, "Watson, come here; I need you!" more than a century
Has passed; our ass is grass, because the lass became debentury.
The rates, just wait, will escalate once SBC Neanderthals
Abate mates that compete; I'll grate my teeth, 'cause there'll be grander thrall.

We're fated to repeat what gave '84 decree--banned the thrall
Of AT&T; soon SBC's TPC Neanderthal.