Tis the season for the Haters Fa la la la...

'Twas the week before killing, when all thro' the town,
The gardeners were stirring, all with a frown.

The signs were hung at the golf course with care,
In hopes that DeNicola soon would be there;

The haters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of bloodshed danced in their heads.
And Susan in her Gucci, and Keith ready to snap,
Had just settled down to write some more crap.

When out in the Park, there arose such a clatter,
they jumped from their desks, and dropped their shrimp platters.
Away to their limos, they drove in a dash,
Tore open the windows and Looked Up Lebo. (wait that doesn't rhyme.)

"Now, Brumfield! now Bendel! now Silverman too!
On Aaron, On McLean! Rudy! but not Fraasch. Boo hoo!
It's September and time for the cull.
Now kill away! Kill away! Kill away all!

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