Tell them you called me "Zitty Bitch."

Well that’s the name when you got fame

Because I stank and overdrank

the coffee, coke, and stuff from folk

who judged me when I’d always sin

and often fail and fall and wail

and all my work was too berserk

and people said I should be dead

and then the smell of course was hell

for everyone who took my fun

‘cause I’m a waste and never chaste.

And yet so cold and prudish old,

With darkened heart and lousy art,

Well if you love to float above

And sneer at me so hatefully

Then what you might enjoy one night

Is judgement day where you can say

To God and the humanity

Who chose to see Christ on a tree

Is that you find his work unkind

And ugly too, not good like you

And tell him where you’ll go that’s fair

the place with fire that you desire.