FauxElitist
02-06-2006, 07:33 PM
The Ballad of Sin Studly
So gather round ye children
And hearken to my tale
The story of an Aussie bloke
Who'd look at home in jail
From shaven head, to pink mohawk
Or hair adorned in waves
A white power preaching Aryan
With the blood of nigger slaves
And while some may think he's insecure
And compensating too
With cutting words and scathing wit
Especially if you're a jew
No one alive should doubt his words
Nor class this man a fool
For he's wiser here, beyond his years
While acting like a tool
But what is it that gains respect
From such an open queer
A man who'll nut - raped from the butt
And never shed a tear?
For surely such a bastard
Admires those who prove their wits
Or perhaps it takes a pretty face
Like that slavic with no tits
So hark to the tale of Justin
A bludger in his prime
A man who'll drink as soon as think
And overuse 'quicklime'
A junkie who's intelligent
And a scoundrel like no other;
A man who'll take the higher ground
While living with his mother
Now what creates a man like this
Who lives just to offend
Who'll rant and rave and scream aloud
'Fuck your Chuck Norris trend!!!'
Perhaps it happened early on
When he was meek and mild
As Uncle is as Uncle does
'Come here, my little child'
And so I ask to all you now
This question do I pose
Have you ever seen more unique form
Or beauty than his prose?
'Quicklime, quicklime, quicklime, quicklime
Hempen jig A-jig-jig-jig'
At least none can call him repetitive
Nor a sexist racist pig
But nonetheless none could deny
The sharpness of his tongue
The wit with which he'll slay the old
The ugly, French and young
And God we all do love him
In spite of many flaws
Like his drinking, drugs – couch-comforting
And love of slavic whores
So hark to the tale of Justin
A bludger in his prime
A man who'll drink as soon as think
And overuse 'quicklime'
A junkie who's intelligent
And a scoundrel like no other;
A man who'll take the higher ground
While living with his mother
As promised, cutiepie.
So gather round ye children
And hearken to my tale
The story of an Aussie bloke
Who'd look at home in jail
From shaven head, to pink mohawk
Or hair adorned in waves
A white power preaching Aryan
With the blood of nigger slaves
And while some may think he's insecure
And compensating too
With cutting words and scathing wit
Especially if you're a jew
No one alive should doubt his words
Nor class this man a fool
For he's wiser here, beyond his years
While acting like a tool
But what is it that gains respect
From such an open queer
A man who'll nut - raped from the butt
And never shed a tear?
For surely such a bastard
Admires those who prove their wits
Or perhaps it takes a pretty face
Like that slavic with no tits
So hark to the tale of Justin
A bludger in his prime
A man who'll drink as soon as think
And overuse 'quicklime'
A junkie who's intelligent
And a scoundrel like no other;
A man who'll take the higher ground
While living with his mother
Now what creates a man like this
Who lives just to offend
Who'll rant and rave and scream aloud
'Fuck your Chuck Norris trend!!!'
Perhaps it happened early on
When he was meek and mild
As Uncle is as Uncle does
'Come here, my little child'
And so I ask to all you now
This question do I pose
Have you ever seen more unique form
Or beauty than his prose?
'Quicklime, quicklime, quicklime, quicklime
Hempen jig A-jig-jig-jig'
At least none can call him repetitive
Nor a sexist racist pig
But nonetheless none could deny
The sharpness of his tongue
The wit with which he'll slay the old
The ugly, French and young
And God we all do love him
In spite of many flaws
Like his drinking, drugs – couch-comforting
And love of slavic whores
So hark to the tale of Justin
A bludger in his prime
A man who'll drink as soon as think
And overuse 'quicklime'
A junkie who's intelligent
And a scoundrel like no other;
A man who'll take the higher ground
While living with his mother
As promised, cutiepie.