Don't fuck this up. This a paid gig A dumpy goat Bit her finger Like a baby carrot last night She's sweating through the sheets Like a bag of rotting meat She's talking to the ghosts Who gather at her feet She's got Salmonella! We dialed the doctor but there's no reply (Straight to voicemail) The rumor on the street Is he's cheating on his wife With the locum tenens And a guy who swallows knives And looks like Sal Mineo! And her complexion is a curious shade of green Brighter than a bunion Paler than a peach Darker than a dungeon A ripe sardine She's got Salmonella! (She is now) Dead as a doornail!