Mongrel beater, mongrel beater, ain’t you ’shamed you
mug that mutt? You mutter, “What? That’s just my style!”
You smote Rover in the clover; the grass stained you.
You’re a mongrel beater who must bathe a while.

Mutt’s a trial, so you’re a clubber, mongrel beater.
The SPCA would say you’ve a hard heart.
Many fleas has he brought past your doorstep;
they jump high where you have thigh hair.
They suck gore and you squeal, mongrel beater.
You get a pole and club the mutt, then barking starts.

On you pile, a robust clubber, mongrel beater.
The SPCA would say you’re lacking heart.
Many beats have you brought to this poor pet—
your frame tires there; he gains ire there.
You he storms and you squeal, mongrel beater.
He gets ahold and, schlub, you’re grub; the carving starts.

Mongrel seether, mongrel teether.