A middle-aged woman speeding in a truck
Hogs the lane like she doesn’t give a @$#%
Than running you over with her truck
In a room that smelled like aging meat
Chef Mutton Chop had too much to drink
He blurted out:
The guy who prepared your soup
never washes his hands after he poops!
Yes, tap water from the sink
is scary to drink.
They all put their dinkys
in the drinkys!
And their noodles
poke your strudel!
Always having fun
with your bun,
never forgetting the extra sleaze
on the cheese.
Hepatitis — Tag, You’re it!
Chef Mutton Chop then leaned over and vomited in a trash can.
And one final thought…
They always use the tortilla as a wipe
before they roll your burrito tight.
Cheers!
Have a great time as you dine tonight.
Yogi Mossie and the Down Dog Posse
We’re tearing hammies from here to Miami
We do our chaturangas in bling
We are the yoga kings
We’re always bringing the hassle
To the parkour lads in Newcastle
We’re always starting trouble
Here to burst your fitness bubble
The heat’s in the meat
As we breathe to the beat
Yogi Mossie and the Down Dog Posse are tough
Not to be confused with the cross fit fluff
Internet blogger freaks doing Blogarate
It’s like a Yugo drag racing a Maserati
You do push-ups on your pinkies
We do press-ups with our winkies
Yoga’s the winner
We’ll consume you for dinner
Warrior 1
Warrior2
Warrior 3
We practice yoga for free
Yogi Mossie and the Down Dog Posse
Namaste
Granny’s looking for someone special to meet
Cruising the internet for a guy who’s sweet
Her husband died and now she feels like a loner
Over the net she met a Ukrainian mine owner
The picture of the man is tall dark and handsome
Not realizing her heart will be held for ransom
Granny really begins to care
He knows all the right words to share
He likes to instant message by choice
Granny never hears his voice
It’s a little odd he won’t use a phone
Then he instant messages Granny for a loan
He’s in big trouble… a situation far away
Granny loves him so she says “okay”
This situation goes on and on
Until all of Granny’s savings are gone
All those with grannies please beware
Scammers are everywhere
Stay close to your granny
Cheers
Shopping this morning my face is numb
It’s the second time I’ve been crop dusted by an invisible bum
A fly-by of flatulence that smells like day old bologna
Searching the quiet store
I caught a glimpse of old man Maloney
Laughing and chuckling as he disappeared down an aisle
He got me again
That smell sure is vile
The odor stuck to the clothes I was wearin’
Everyone be on the lookout for the Red Baron
Stop living in the closet.
What’s wrong with you?
You dream of foreplay with chips and salsa before you make love to a beef burrito.
But you deny yourself.
You even deny yourself birthday cake at your own child’s birthday party.
Stop living on the fringe where the burger meets the bun or the salad meets the crouton.
Come back my falafel eating maniacs.
What happened to binge drinking while shoving countless cupcakes in your face as you laughed all night?
Now it looks as if a nervous breakdown is imminent.
I’m calling all the little piggies back to the pen.
Eat Cake!
Chef Mutton Chop’s Plea is brought to you by Potentially Disruptive.
Under the sun
Looking for fun
Flirting with the sea of darkness
Take drink
Try not to sink
Escaping into the sea of darkness
All your troubles
Tiny air bubbles
Sinking into the sea of darkness
Take a toot
Soul becomes mute
Drowning in the sea of darkness
Out of the dark
Come the sharks
Prowling in the sea of darkness
In the midst of strife
Better fight for your life
In the sea of darkness
Illicit bait
Opens the gates
Into the sea of darkness
Don’t be confused
As you’re consumed
In the sea of darkness
It was your sin
Jumping in
Into the sea of darkness
Open your eyes
And begin to rise
Out of the sea of darkness
Cut your ties
To all the lies
Trapping you in the sea of darkness
It’s never too late
To change your fate
Concerning the sea of darkness
Have you seen the press?
Clooney, Heslov, Bearman.
An island’s dirty little secret.
Memories flood in.
Hippies, honey-bear cookies and my best friend Bear.
Carefree days roaming freely.
Wind in my hair.
Sun on my face.
People I looked up to, lived with, laughed with.
Sweet memories.
And then… the screeching brakes of reality.
The curtain pulls back.
Guns.
Drugs.
Indictments.
Disappearing acts.
The rumors, the stories, the news.
Here’s what Sixty Minutes said about it.
It’s only a sliver of the story.
Flying down the road
The kids think I’m a troll
Because I’ll only play rock and roll
I sing loud and proud
I like the windows down
Still everybody frowns
They all want to hear one thing
And it’s not music from the king
I raised them on Miles and Coltrane
Mozart and Beethoven
Elvis and Frank
When did their musical tastes tank
They are fanatics about country
Since some of those weenies
Started wearing beanies
I would rather commit harry carry
Than listen to those fairies
About dirt and trucks
And dogs wagging their tails for good luck
I would rather stab myself in the neck
Than to sit back and say what the heck
I was told
I’m just getting old
Better roll up the windows before you catch a cold
Just another old man
Driving a bunch of kids in a mini van