The Rooster's been strangled, the Stallion's been shot
A Rejected Dog, is that all we've got?
The Fles is now wordless and dj is sober

Will Fubar and manc hold out 'til October?

Chorus:

Well I always thought that Sick-i, would be the death of me
But now I can see that Sick-i, will die most unnaturally...


Our Welshman is shorn as the shaggiest sheep
And pickles is selling IDs on the cheap
The Myrrh that was Purring has rumbled her last

So now Sickipedia's a thing of the past

No tony nor OT to taxi us home

No lomas nor nailedon to write us a poem
Now bawbag and bonkbonk will cease with their bile
Their stars will not fade just explode in a while


No mums will be slandered and dragged through the dirt
No gayboys exposed or offended or hurt

The jokes will be published and I'll give you hint
We're not the ones who'll be making a mint


Chorus and ad lib