by Nick Gisburne
I’m a Viking, ferocious and strong
But my pillaging doesn’t take long
When the peasants are dead
And the rivers run red
I wear dresses and break into song
I am drilling a hole in my head
And my brains on the carpet are spread
When it’s empty in there
I am fully aware
I will need to recover in bed
I can still see the look in your eyes
At your Valentine dinner surprise
I remember the meat
So deliciously sweet
There were pieces of you in the pies
No suspicion was put on the bride
When he jumped from the window and died
But the body was found
Strangled, poisoned and drowned
So perhaps he just couldn't decide
There are llamas all over the road
And they’re speaking in Spanish, in code
Argentina is full
Of combustible wool
And I think it’s about to explode
They had buried him ages ago
Yet his body survived in the snow
He was legally dead
And still missing the head
So success as a singer was slow
There’s an angel too clumsy to fly
And I think I’ve identified why
When he severed a wing
He attached it with string
And the glue is refusing to dry
From the alien milkmen in space
Came a force no defences could chase
Now the cities all scream
As the skies fill with cream
And there’s yogurt all over the place
He has fallen to ruin and rust
And his body decays in the dust
As an army of ants
Finds a home in his pants
He decides that a cleaner’s a must
It was tragic how Santa Claus died
From a diet of reindeer, deep fried
When no coffin would fit
He was thrown in a pit
In a shiny red box, wrapped and tied
