Part three

He was dressed all in chintz, from his head to my floor,
A bad Santa knock off from his mill in Lahore.
A sack of foul juju he just flung on my bed,
And he looked like an asshole, with a badger on his head.

His eyes-how they squinted! His sclera bloodshot!
His cheeks looked like uni, his nose ran with snot!
His nasty little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the stumps he calls fingers look more like my toes.