There lived a boy
Named Horace McCoy,
His father was dead and his mother was hung,
He filled his head
With the Evil Dead,
Even though to view it he was too young.
But Horace McCoy,
That loathsome boy,
Decided the movie he would re-enact,
He cut down trees and skinned his knees
And killed the cat in the cellar – the odious little feller!
But Horace’s gran
Took her frying pan
And belted him about the arse,
Said: “Get that Evil Dead
Stuff outta your head
Or you’ll be spending the week in Glen Carse!”
So Horace took his axe
And gave her some whacks
And knocked her head clean down to the basement,
Then asked teenage totty,
An eager young hotty,
To parade nude under his casement.
But the ghost of his gran
With her frying pan
And his dear departed dad,
Roamed with a moan and a groan,
Together and alone,
To the disgust of the amorous lad.