Ye Olde Scribe: Parody Time!

“Let’s all sing…”

As sung by the ReThug crooner himself…

Herman Cain is the name and my pizza was bad, topped or and plain
Den the Kochs decided to fund my campaign but I might go back to pizza again
Louisville 1990s national Restaurant Association kept my family alive
Together me n Ginger into bed fell
It’s a time I remember, oh so well

(Oh all) the nights Ginger I did pound!
Wid text messages a ringin
Yeah, dem nights Ginger and I got down!
But now dem b*&^hes are singin!
They’re goin, “Na, na, na, nanana, na, na, na na… nanananana…”

My wife way south of Tennessee,
Don’t know bout Karen Kraushaar n me
“Herman, I just can’t see
Why women just won’t let ya be.”
If she knew all da times I got wood,
then behaved like nobody should
I’d be in a big mess
Ta pay dem off for my ge-donk-in
Thought dey’d done der best

(Yells out as heads into chorus: “It’s all the National Restaurant Association’s fault, and dem bi&%$ch’s fault for bein so good lookin. T’aint mine! T’aint mine!)

Oh all the nights Ginger I did pound!
Wid text messages a ringin
Yeah, dem nights Ginger and I got down!
But now dem b*&^hes are singin!
They’re goin, “Na, na, na, nanana, na, na, na na… nanananana…”

Like many a $#@! before her, I lifted up Sharon’s skirt
Now even when Repubs talk about me, They start wit, “Pervert alert!”
Now I’m older, still lustful, boastful, love ta grope
Believin no one’d bring it up, whatta dope!
Thinkin of quitin I’m splattered with mud to my feet
Don’t raise ya’s head back up bi*&%ch, Cain’s still in heat!

(Keep goin! Keep goin! Ah, dat feel gooooooooooooooooodddd…)

Oh all the nights Ginger I did pound!
Wid text messages a ringin
Yeah, dem nights Ginger and I got down!
But now dem b*&^hes are singin!
They’re goin, “Na, na, na, nanana, na, na, na na… nanananana…”