You're a mean one, Hayden Wright.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Hayden Wright.
You're a bad banana
With a greasy black peel.
You're a monster, Hayden Wright.
Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders,
You've got garlic in your soul.
Hayden Wright.
I wouldn't touch you, with a
thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.
You're a vile one, Hayden Wright.
You have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness
Of a seasick crocodile.
Hayden Wright.
Given the choice between the two of you
I'd take the seasick crockodile.
You're a foul one, Hayden Wright.
You're a nasty, wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks
Your soul is full of gunk.
Hayden Wright.
The three words that best describe you,
are, and I quote: "Stink. Stank. Stunk."
You're a rotter, Hayden Wright.
You're the king of sinful sots.
Your heart's a dead tomato splot
With moldy purple spots,
Hayden Wright.
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, Hayden Wright.
With a nauseaus super-naus.
You're a crooked jerky jockey
And you drive a crooked horse.
Hayden Wright.
You're a three decker saurkraut and toadstool
sandwich
With arsenic sauce.
