Written by Nickelbum

Saturday, 27 March 2010

Ontario Human Rights Ballad
Arses to Allah
(To read aloud!)

Bah, bah, Barbara Hall*,
I'm Barbara Hall, you know.
I'm spurring my horse with all of my force
To make the carousel go.

Let nobody laugh at me and my staff
In the office of Barbara Hall's.
We're riding astraddle, our bums in the saddle,
A-hunting for infidel balls.

My professional life is wielding a knife
For the cause of minority rights,
And to fight the good fight with all of my might
On perceiving the slightest of slights.

There's no grievance too small for Barbara Hall
To make it a mountainous case.
I'll suck you so dry, you'd wish you could die
And drown without any trace.

You'll go down to defeat when I turn up the heat
At the bid of my favorite whore-man.
For Richard the Dick is an outsized prick
But is good for me as the doorman.

You'll be toasted and frigging up the mast and the rigging
In the court of our Mr. Right.
He's a pain in the arse and his court is a farce
But I don't give a damn for your plight.

It's my kind of sport to take you to court,
And with that you'll surely agree,
For you don't get to choose your own kangaroos,
And they grovel in obedience to me.

I'll fight for Elmasy, the one that is crazy,
For I drool at the way that he yells,
'My arse is to Allah! I'm off to Valhalla,
In the rocket my farting propels!'

My sympathy lies with Elmasy's demise
And especially the fate of his goat.
I hear he did vomit as he prayed to Mahomet
And he grabbed the goat at the throat.

When he tried to depart, the thrust of his fart
Was damp as a waterlogged squib.
He collapsed for his trouble in confusion and rubble,
Like a baby out of its crib.

But if anyone jeers or salaciously sneers
At this man who's adorably quaint,
I'm exerting my bias on behalf of the pious
In respect for this latter-day saint.

And any sex worker attired in a burqa
Has rights that you must respect,
And your luck of the drawer when hiring a whore
Confers no right to inspect.

It's always my dictum to fight for a victim,
And Elmasy's a poor little worm.
So if anyone jeers or salaciously sneers,
I'll make him grovel and squirm.

I ferociously land my ravenous hand
On the crotch of any offender.
If you think that it's trendy to offend the effendi
I'll pulp your balls in the blender.

An insatiable goddess, I keep in my bodice
A knife for cutting off balls,
And I serve them in batter on an elegant platter
At the table at Barbara Hall's.

I love my profession to the point of obsession
It makes me a woman of pleasure.
And my lust is compulsive. It's almost convulsive,
A pleasure beyond any measure.

The trumpet resounds as I hunt with the hounds,
All thanks to the taxpayers' money.
But nobody cares and nobody dares
To challenge their Barbara Bunny.

Bah, bah, Barbara Hall,
I'm Barbara Hall, you know.
And I'm spurring my horse with all of my force
To make the carousel go.

* Ontario's Human Rights Kommissar

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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