The Zionist Kangaroo
Hopping along, he came
right up to my door.
Knock, knock, knock, knock—
rude knocks, I could tell for sure.
“Hello? Can I help you?”
“Yes, you can. Get the hell out of my house.
This is my house.”
“But you are a kangaroo—how, oh how
can this be your house?”
“We used to live in the north of Canada,” he replied.
“This is our native land.
Our Snowman God promised us this land
three thousand years ago.”
“Are you kidding me?” I said.
“Apparently not…”
He punched me in the face,
stomped all over my children,
beheaded my wife and started
wearing her clothes.
Stunned, I screamed, “Stop!
Get the hell out!”
He replied I was a terrorist ba*tard
and anti-snowmitic.
He shot me.
My last vision
was IDF kangaroos
slaughtering polar bears.
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