I HATE YOU DENNIS WALTERS Dennis Walters I hate your guts Every Christmas that ever went wrong You stinking turd, you had a hand in it 1972 my matchbox cars and track Run over by hippies in a sandman At Barwon Heads Who was playing on the radio? In my grandfathers caravan You were Dennis Walter, you bastard 1973, 74, 75, 76 I cant even talk about them years But Dennis Walters was there 1977 my sister broke my skateboard Who was on the TV? Dennis Walters was My racer was turned into a question mark by my dads boat trailer You know by now whose voice was piping out of the car radio Same again in 83 when my speakers caught on fire Year after year after year Dennis Walters manifested in some form or shape To turn my Christmas into a tragedies PAUSE HERE Fact- during the festive season every fifty two minutes And forty seven seconds somewhere in Australia Dennis Walters is appearing in a Christmas pageant. BACK TO THE POEM I resolved to do something about my Dennis Walters problem I got in contact with Santa Claus, but he wouldnt do a thing Dennis Walters was a sanctioned Christmas performer, he told me Which made me put my fingers down my throat and vomit I searched and searched the world over to find a solution to the Dennis Walters problem Finally I found it As you know Santa lives at the North Pole But who lives at the South? None other than Death Santa He wears black splattered with red He doesnt wear a hat he wears a balaclava He slays with his sigh but he never rides He does have reindeers But theyre fixed to the walls, surrounding his fire place He has little helpers who wear radio bracelets, fixed to their ankles He doesnt bring presents, you have to hire him and then he brings death So I arranged a contract with Death Santa Dennis Walters youre not going to ruin this Christmas too Death Santa is coming for you, ho hoho ho.
Posted on: Sat, 29 Nov 2014 12:36:23 +0000
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