Sound card went out in my computer today.
Turn’s out it’s already been attempted.
http://www.amiright.com/parody/70s/stevemartin4.shtml
Now when he was a young man,
He smoked a lot of choom.
Never gave a thought,
Breathing all those fumes.
King Putt.
How’d you get so funky?
Did you eat the monkey?
Born somewhere in Kenya,
Golfs in Abyssin-ya,
King Putt.
Well, now I know,
He’ll golf away our savings,
All around the planet,
But never at Camp David.
King Putt.
Experience is wonky.
He’s a half a honkey.
Born in Honolulu,
Golfs in Naalehu,
King Putt.
Golfin’ all the while.
He swings in gay-boy style.
Drives a thousandth mile.
His score card’s full of guile.
He gave his life to Marxism.
Graven idol.
He’s a real Kenyan.
He’s killin’ us.
Now, when the lie,
Is tough to make a swing.
He’ll make the score card fiction.
Obama is the King.
King Putt.
Mendacity’s his nature,
With him there is no future.
Born somewhere in Kenya,
Golfs in Abyssin-ya,
He was born in Indonesia,
Got a case of false amnesia.
King Putt!