The zombie horde that
shambles in the dark,
And piles up like leaves
outside our home
Seeks human flesh as dearly
as the shark,
And in the dark we hear them
wail and moan.
We cannot make the undead go
away
They'll still be wailing,
screeching with the dawn,
Unless we take the time to
go and slay
These creatures, and to get
them off our lawn.
So fill the chainsaws up
with gasoline,
A resource that's so
precious and so dear.
To hear us you might think
we're very mean,
we slaughter them with
jollity and cheer.
The city has already been
consumed,
But if they tackle our house
they'll be doomed.
