Tuckford Bunny Press
© 2024 William Frank | Tuckford Bunny Press | Selden, NY |
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication or website may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or
retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
The Gallimaufry of William Frank
This page will feature a mix of different works, from off-the-cuff songs to sprays of fiction, excerpts from plays, really any kind of work I feel like
putting up for a lark. Enjoy the farrago!
Song: William Frank Is Awful & Gross
William Frank is gross, he's really gross.
You shouldn't look him in the face or get too close.
If you really want to do it
I must tell you to eschew it,
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
William Frank is gross, he's really gross.
I pity a person with a nose.
His smell is rather rude
so I think we must conclude
that William Frank is awful & he's gross.
William Frank is gross, he's really gross.
He's like an egg so rotten it explodes.
He makes the sulfur in the room
seem like a grand perfume,
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
William Frank is gross, he's really gross.
If you're not careful you could end up comatose.
His personality's obscene
and his mind is a latrine,
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
It’s impossible to comprehend how gross.
He's like a centipede that lives between your toes.
He's a cramp, he's a cringe,
and he's totally unhinged.
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
William Frank is gross, he's truly gross.
There's no point in telling him because he knows.
Is he stupid or on meth
or just best friends with Death?
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
If you won't listen to me, or regard your sanity,
if you think you can endure his dreadful company,
if you're going to take a chance, like a boil you'll be lanced
by the enemy of everything that's sacred to romance,
if you come to me in pain, or simply to complain,
I'm pretty sure I warned you 'bout his dirty scrambled brains,
if deaf like a stone, then you are on your own,
I won't take you to the hospital or care for you at home,
The terror of all Bills, won't you overdose on pills
if I'm going through this trouble and you want to meet him still?
That's a better outcome than doing something dumb
in a bag of piranhas that is just as cuddlesome,
if it were up to me, I'd throw him in the sea,
but he'd probably take with him children and the elderly
so in short, let me close, don't casually suppose
it might be fun to meet him and you will not decompose
Greater souls than you
are nothing but a goo
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
Birthday Song for My Co-Workers
You’re Old!
You’re like a gray piece of mold!
You’re Old!
You’ve got wrinkles and folds!
You’ve Aged!
Like a big wheel of cheese!
You’ve Aged!
Your tits are down by your knees!
You’re Old!
My God, and how!
You’re Old!
There’s nothing left for you now!
You’ve Aged!
Like Great Uncles and Aunts
You’ve Aged!
Who sit there shitting their pants!
You’re Old!
You smell like Ben Gay!
You’re Old!
You’re confused every day!
You’ve Aged!
Like Madonna and Cher!
You’ve Aged!
And you’re not stopping there!
You’re Old!
Would you like some more prunes?
You’re Old!
Death will be there soon!
You’ve Aged!
You’ve got old person ass
You’ve Aged!
With uncontrollable gas!
You’re Old!
Welcome to Hell
You’re Old!
And demented as well!
You’ve Aged!
I better wrap this thing up
You’ve Aged!
For your time’s almost up
You’re Old!
Don’t take it so bad!
You’re Old!
I’m lying, it’s sad!
You’ve Aged!
I’ll remember you when
You’re Old!
And you’re ghostly, closely, mostly almost dead!
I sing the song of Assassins,
I whistle our Union tune,
I wave in the morning to Mr. Guts
and Gruesome Milton Goon.
Some children wanted to be a cop,
and some a firefighter,
I wanted to serve my customers
with my zippo lighter.
I go to work in the morning
and I come home caked in blood.
My bludgeon's sweet, my hammer sings,
just like my sweetheart does.
I go to work in the morning
and I come home slopped with brains.
If you don't think pain's a delight
your sweetheart's much too plain.
I go to work in the morning
and I take the city bus.
Life is sad in a general way
but especially concussed.
Some like teaching students,
and some like computer sales
but I like caving in a head
and driving home my nails.
I'm a man of fatal action
and I love the work I do
with high job satisfaction,
unfortunately for you.
I don't have medical coverage,
and I don't have a vision plan,
but I get great perquisites
each time I break your hands.
I go to work in the morning
and I take my coffee black
just like death, just like love
where no one's coming back.
I go to work in the morning
and I come home caked in blood.
What is love, I don't know what
but my hammer does.
I sing the song of Assassins,
I recite our Service Pledge:
Each Day We Serve a Human Best
With His Busted Head.
Work Song of the Assassins
Tuckford Bunny Press
© 2024 William Frank | Tuckford Bunny Press | Selden, NY |
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of
this publication or website may be reproduced, distributed or
transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or
retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
This page will feature a mix of different works, from off-the-cuff songs
to sprays of fiction, excerpts from plays, really any kind of work I feel like
putting up for a lark. Enjoy the farrago!
Song: William Frank Is Awful & Gross
William Frank is gross, he's really gross.
You shouldn't look him in the face or get too close.
If you really want to do it
I must tell you to eschew it,
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
William Frank is gross, he's really gross.
I pity a person with a nose.
His smell is rather rude
so I think we must conclude
that William Frank is awful & he's gross.
William Frank is gross, he's really gross.
He's like an egg so rotten it explodes.
He makes the sulfur in the room
seem like a grand perfume,
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
William Frank is gross, he's really gross.
If you're not careful you could end up comatose.
His personality's obscene
and his mind is a latrine,
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
It’s impossible to comprehend how gross.
He's like a centipede that lives between your toes.
He's a cramp, he's a cringe,
and he's totally unhinged.
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
William Frank is gross, he's truly gross.
There's no point in telling him because he knows.
Is he stupid or on meth
or just best friends with Death?
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
If you won't listen to me, or regard your sanity,
if you think you can endure his dreadful company,
if you're going to take a chance, like a boil you'll be lanced
by the enemy of everything that's sacred to romance,
if you come to me in pain, or simply to complain,
I'm pretty sure I warned you 'bout his dirty scrambled brains,
if deaf like a stone, then you are on your own,
I won't take you to the hospital or care for you at home,
The terror of all Bills, won't you overdose on pills
if I'm going through this trouble and you want to meet him still?
That's a better outcome than doing something dumb
in a bag of piranhas that is just as cuddlesome,
if it were up to me, I'd throw him in the sea,
but he'd probably take with him children and the elderly
so in short, let me close, don't casually suppose
it might be fun to meet him and you will not decompose
Greater souls than you
are nothing but a goo
William Frank is awful & he's gross.
You’re Old!
You’re like a gray piece of mold!
You’re Old!
You’ve got wrinkles and folds!
You’ve Aged!
Like a big wheel of cheese!
You’ve Aged!
Your tits are down by your knees!
You’re Old!
My God, and how!
You’re Old!
There’s nothing left for you now!
You’ve Aged!
Like Great Uncles and Aunts
You’ve Aged!
Who sit there shitting their pants!
You’re Old!
You smell like Ben Gay!
You’re Old!
You’re confused every day!
You’ve Aged!
Like Madonna and Cher!
You’ve Aged!
And you’re not stopping there!
You’re Old!
Would you like some more prunes?
You’re Old!
Death will be there soon!
You’ve Aged!
You’ve got old person ass
You’ve Aged!
With uncontrollable gas!
You’re Old!
Welcome to Hell
You’re Old!
And demented as well!
You’ve Aged!
I better wrap this thing up
You’ve Aged!
For your time’s almost up
You’re Old!
Don’t take it so bad!
You’re Old!
I’m lying, it’s sad!
You’ve Aged!
I’ll remember you when
You’re Old!
And You’re ghostly, closely, mostly almost dead!
Birthday Song for My Co-Workers
I sing the song of Assassins,
I whistle our Union tune,
I wave in the morning to Mr. Guts
and Gruesome Milton Goon.
Some children wanted to be a cop,
and some a firefighter,
I wanted to serve my customers
with my zippo lighter.
I go to work in the morning
and I come home caked in blood.
My bludgeon's sweet, my hammer sings,
just like my sweetheart does.
I go to work in the morning
and I come home slopped with brains.
If you don't think pain's a delight
your sweetheart's much too plain.
I go to work in the morning
and I take the city bus.
Life is sad in a general way
but especially concussed.
Some like teaching students,
and some like computer sales
but I like caving in a head
and driving home my nails.
I'm a man of fatal action
and I love the work I do
with high job satisfaction,
unfortunately for you.
I don't have medical coverage,
and I don't have a vision plan,
but I get great perquisites
each time I break your hands.
I go to work in the morning
and I take my coffee black
just like death, just like love
where no one's coming back.
I go to work in the morning
and I come home caked in blood.
What is love, I don't know what
but my hammer does.
I sing the song of Assassins,
I recite our Service Pledge:
Each Day We Serve a Human Best
With His Busted Head
Work Song of the Assassins
The Gallimaufry of William Frank