“Fuckity corn snakes! Golly gee cunty willickers! Mabel, where’s my syrup!? I’m making spinach.”
You’ve heard from your friends, you’ve read in the news
But there’s a fact that we must disabuse
Dr. Seuss is not dead, and buried he’s not!
But crotchety he is, and dementia he’s got.
“You’ve got to stop moving things, Mabel. Yertle’s asshole, you’re a bitch.”
My name was not Mabel, rather ‘twas Sue
But for Seuss frankly any callsign would do
I’d served far too long a faithful PR rep
With him, I’d spent my life in lockstep.
“Get me my hookers and blow, Mabel.”
Twasn’t vulgarity that made us close the doors
Bar out the public and turn away his fan ‘whores’
No, true tragedy had come through the sands of time
Dr. Seuss had forgotten how to speak in rhyme.
“Where are we going? Put my coat down. I want my balls hanging out.”
I’d but one hope, in Thing One and Thing Two
The Hash House Harriers knew just what to do,
Cockamole with Twerxes a trail would set
To remind old Seuss what he shouldn’t forget
“Hah! They’ll let anyone out and about these days! Lookit that one! He’s got a man bun!”
Ah, to see the delight in an old man’s eyes,
As he gazed at Just Doesn’t Get It’s thighs,
Then looking past the forest and out to the pier,
At the ever fateful words—Beer Near!
“I feel in my soul the start of a rhyme!
Whorifist thrust out Primal Vagina this time!
But that’s not the most shocking thing I’ve seen—
Uncle Bad Touch is here, and it’s not Hashoween!
“And I look to the left and see locks freshly shorn
Buck Fucka’s donation will some pussy adorn
But besides him the visitors are humping my leg
Someone show Mouth Wash how to pump the keg!
“But what truly reached to the depths of my heart
Was to see my life’s work on No Shit’s ass as ART!
I’ve never had such fun, never heard such laughter
Come everyone, let’s go to the on after!”
With that Seuss was back, his condition restored
Perhaps just a tad filthier than before
So if you’re looking for a new book or two--
Look on the shelves for Horton Hears ‘Fuck You!’