You're
a mean one, Mr. Sith.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly
as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Sith.
You're
a bad banana
With a greasy black peel.
You're a monster,
Mr. Sith.
Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of
spiders,
You've got garlic in your soul.
Mr. Sith.
I
wouldn't touch you, with a
thirty-nine-and-a-half foot
pole.
You're a vile one, Mr. Sith.
You have evil in your
smile.
You have all the tender sweetness
Of a seasick
crocodile.
Mr. Sith.
Given the choice between the two of
you
I'd take the seasick crockodile.
You're a foul one, Mr.
Sith.
You truly are a glare.
Your heart is full of unwashed
socks
Your soul's in disrepair.
Mr. Sith.
The three
words that best describe you,
are, and I quote: "Scary.
Scares. Scare."
You're a rotter, Mr. Sith.
You're the
king of sinful sots.
Your heart's a dead tomato splot
With
moldy purple spots,
Mr. Sith.
Your soul is an apalling
dump heap overflowing
with the most disgraceful assortment of
deplorable
rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up
knots.
You nauseate me, Mr. Sith.
With a nauseaus
super-naus.
You're a crooked jerky jockey
And you drive a
crooked horse.
Mr. Sith.
You're a three decker saurkraut
and toadstool
sandwich
With arsenic sauce.
