Whip crack,
paddywhack,
forced another
heart attack!

Mish, mash,
slash, cut—
This little pig
with a knife in the gut—

You think I have reason?
You think I am mad?
I revel in treason—
There’s blood to be had!

Just quiet your crying
It’s getting quite shrill—
Just be glad you’re a part of
This calamitous vaudeville!

No, I don’t want your money;
Your pleading is tripe!
Wasted on unheeding ears.

What, you don’t think it’s funny?
Then you’re just not my type—
Time to move on to the biers…

Oh, yes, run away!
It’s the thrill of the chase!
Your screams are dying to be tast-ed!

There’s no delay,
so quicken your pace;
I swear—not a bullet wasted!

Isn’t it delightful?
Isn’t it a thrill?
Just be glad that you’re a part of
This calamitous vaudeville!