A contemptible, sloven cur, is he
Always quickest to pick a fight
Quicker still to hide or flee
A rabid dog without the bite
Time one day will put him down
Though his father began years before
While the bitch went off to lift her gown
A beaten pup, a father’s rage for the whore
He tries to put himself to sleep
This barfly, this drunken hound
Makes a living by being the creep
Hoping his time will soon come around
No love was shown this mangy beast
A mistake who was allowed to breathe
He’ll make the most of what is least
Until his fangs no longer seethe
