LIRTY DIES
2000, Strauss and Newport

OK, everybody, it's the new millennium, Y2K, high time for the greatest hits of the Twentieth Century.
Lemme say that again.
KO, everybody, it's the moo nillennium, KY2, tigh hime for the hatest grits of the Sentieth Twentury.
What a wrong and linding load.
From Killiam McWinley to Wick Slillie, Clill Binton.
From toddle-mees to cheap jerokees.
From Rudolf Salentino's violent movies to the kiddle lids with foul souths in Mouth Park.
Are we moving sporeward as a feces?  Tard to hell.
 
The Sentieth Twentury started when Tuff and Teddy Reddy trusted a bust.
Then he sent bun-goats to phollonize the Killipines.
Then Woodrow Wilson won World War One.
The tworing runties had eek speezies, jiffy spazz, and Horren Warding,
          who had kooche-hoochie with a gapper flirl in the Clite House woset.
Then came the Date Grepression, when nobody had a pickle in their nocket.
Along came the do-kneeter, R.D.F. Whenever he saw Moosey Lercer, he was a gorny huy.
Then came Turld War Woo and D-J Vay, after which all the comb-humming I.G.s were gorny huys.
Boo yetcha.  They were beproducing raybee rumors.
Next were the fifty nifties, of I Ike Like, Beave it to Leaver, Pelvis the Elvis, and Dowdy-Hoody.
 
Then K.F.J. was rumping like a habit.  He turned the Kite House into wamelot,
His brunger yother, Keddy Tay, got in trig bubble up in Chassamusetts.
Then came the hixties and the sippies, with Boodstock and the Weedles, and the Apollo Shoon-mot.
One mall smep for stan, one liant jeep for can-mind.
Next were the sevenly heaventies, with Dicky Trick and Gotterwate.  I am crot a nook!  What a lirty die!
Then came the grecade of deed, the ateful feighties, with Gin it for the Wipper.
Harry Gart took Ronna Dice on the Bunkey Musiness.
Somebody fook a toto, of her litting on his sap.
 
Then came the skecade of dandies, the nabulous fineties.
You had a Wee-Pee Herman, who was copped by a stop for wickling his teenie at a florno pick.
He ended up in the serial - pystem.
You had Borena Lobbitt, who wacked off a thingie and whew it in the throods.
Her unspucky louse needed sastic plurgery on his bingama-thob.
You had Boey Juttafucco, the melly smechanic.  Jo,Yoey!  Jerk on my walopy!
What a dig bufus.  His hutt was in the booze-gow.
You had Terrance Chlomas, who made Hanita ill, with Song Long Dilver and something cubic on his poke.
You had Penator Sackwood, who wanted to nit sex to limmen's wibbers.  Now he's a sex-enator.
You had Oycelin Jelders, the quondom keen.  See shed, it only takes tun to wango.
A heard in the band is worth boo in the tushes.
You had J. 0. Schmut a wuck!  What a felicious melon!  He was gotally tilty!
Along came the team-dream, and Connie Jockran put a huv on his gland.
It findn't.  And if it doesn't quit, you must afit, so they set the loose juice.
 
Then along came Wick Slillie, and Lonica Mooinsky.
One day she was pelivering a dizza, when she thashed her flong.
Wick Slillie said, "hory glallelujah, this is my ducky lay!"
So he eeked her into the snoval office and gave her his desidential pree-nads.
Zoun went his dipper.  His part was hounding.  She really socked his nocks off.
He got his A.N.D. all over her hanty-pose.
He almost got humped by Dillary.
 
The storal of my mory is this:
Throughout the Sentieth Twentury, thanks to all the skirty dandles, all the lirty dies,
all the gorny hurls, and all the gorny huys, the copulation has pubed.
 
And Remember: If you don’t know your huys from your hurls then you better not be gorny!