Pug Nacity

Pug Nacity's got you right under his thumb,
To him you are nothing - just a bum.
No one denies it, or dares to speak out,
For Pug Nacity rules - not any old lout.

He'll say you're a faggot, a fairy, a nonce,
And if you're dressed up a veritable ponce.
The reign of terror that he brings about
Means everyone near him wants to get out.

Pug Nacity's way is the way of the fist;
To question this is to resist.
And if you do you've really had it
For it's him that rules - no contest in it.

When the meal-time comes around
He'll push in front or knock you down.
On getting his food he'll start to fling it,
Then by the end you'll want to sling it.

The victims he hits with his lethal missiles
Squirm in terror then blow their whistles.
For Pug Nacity cannot always have his way
Or men who are men might as well be gay.

When seeing that they are revolting,
And it's not him from whom they're bolting
He starts to quiver, he is a coward,
The bike he pedals seems nuclear powered.

Now he's gone they're all relieved,
The Nasty Pug's the one who's peeved !