My humour is very satanic
I laugh when the cat combs her hair
My humour is overly manic
I get it from the devil know’s where.
Now I am labelled demented;
And they put me on dangerous drugs.
Apparently folk felt tormented
Because I gave too many hugs.
I cannot blunderstand novels;
And I cannot understand signs
And they say that my home is a hovel.
I never knew ’twas a crime.
For I prefer studying logic
And I love those infinite groups.
I like to mend broken gadgets.
Yet it seems I am now in the soup.
I just got out all my screwdrivers;
The frying pan handle fell off.
It’ll save me from spending my fivers.
If it’s not feminine,I don’t give a fluff.
I have to be feminine,clean and be with it;
To recall the Prime Minister’s name.
As for humour,I have to sieve it.
I blunderstand their little games
