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Stewarton, Scotland

My wee town is perfect, well just a blemish here and there
Thereís one or two wee niggles, if Iím going to be fair
The place itself is lovely, the best and finest in the land
Itís all the folk who live here, well: itís them I cannot stand

Thereís not a single one of them I havenít had to wrangle
So Iíve decided on a deadly quest, of population mangle
A few will need to die, of course, as I manifest my fury
But Iíll be fair, as fair can be, as I play their judge and jury

Mr Jones, that cruel, cruel man, always shouting at my daughter
That awful man has earned himself an invite to the slaughter
And Mrs Jones, his nosey wife, always twitching at the curtains
Iíll leave her twitching on the floor, and her carpet full of blood stains

Mrs Smith, who gives those looks, well bang, she made the list
When I get my chance, to make her die, Iíll be creative, add a twist
Sheíll see me in a different light, and itís sure to be her last sight
Sheís very old and very frail, so Iíll kill her in a street fight

My neighbours are quite noisy so Iíll have to kill them too
Theyíre all a bunch of animals, my next door human zoo
Itís time for me to talk to them and dispense a little violence
Iím sure to get the last word in and ensure eternal silence

And when the killingís over and thereís no one left to kill
When all the screaming dies away: and all is deathly still
Know youíre really welcome here, hell, bring the bleediní wife
My idea of paradise, which Iíve carved out with a knife

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