I'd rather be what I am than what you are,
I'd rather point the finger and condemn,
This wicked world is teeming With irreverent blaspheming
And I thank God I'm not as other men.
You might think I'm a bun short of a picnic,
God knows I'm in the best of mental health,
And He says I have to shriek At different people every week
So this is how I occupy myself:
On Monday I vilify abortions,
On Tuesday the lesbians and gays
On Wednesdays I abuse The Muslims and the Jews
And sexy shows and plays,
On Thursday I loathe the Blacks and Asians,
On Friday an atheist or two,
And I'll yell and raise the rafters When I get to the hereafter,
'Cause I've got a lot more shouting left to do.
Charles Darwin's work incites me to a frenzy,
And so do Richard Dawkins and his chums,
I really hate the guts Of prostitutes and sluts,
I also hate the guts of single mums.
I am the godly scourge of unbelievers,
I stand and fight them seven days a week,
When I see a coloured fellow I begin to bawl and bellow
For he's probably a Hindu or a Sikh.
On Monday I die of gonorrhea,
On Tuesday they bury me with flowers,
On Wednesday I wait Outside the pearly gate
For hours and hours and hours,
On Thursday I have to show my passport,
They sent me to the furnaces to stew,
But I never shall relent, for as the guard told Arthur Dent,
I've got a lot more shouting left to do.
