Twas the night before Rootymas
Twas the night before Rootymas, when all through the the dirty one bedroom government welfare house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a bush pig.
The herpes medicane was hung by the inflateable bathtub with care,
In hopes that Rooty soon would be there.
The children that lisa had taken away were nestled all snug in their beds in foster family's houses,
While nigtmares of the horrible child abuse they had suffered by there crack head mother danced in their heads.
And lisa in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cag,
Had just stayed up for 2 weeks straight arguing with people with people on the interent.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the computer desk where i had been lurking a fourm to see what was the matter.
Away to the window lisa flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the uncut grass and weeds and bird shit
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a guy who looked liked shrek rolling up in a wheel chair.
