My Deck

The deck I built back of my house in Dubuque.

(The tune for the following lyrics can be heard in this scene from Harold and Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo Bay.)


My deck is solid, wide and strong.
Your deck won't last too long.
My deck opened on a double-wide screen.
Your deck was rated, "Better not seen."

My deck has a very strong foundation.
Your deck was shown on White-Trash Nation.
My deck was featured in Better Homes.
Your deck trembles like cheap foam.

My deck I've shown lots of love.
Your deck was crapped on by a dove.
My deck stands out like a colonel.
Your deck was rejected by Ladies Home Journal.

My deck has quality envied by Germans.
Your deck is inhabited by vermin.
My deck gets the finest wax job.
Your deck lacks even a polished knob.

My deck scores from the 3-point zone.
Your deck is a dog without a bone.
My deck hurts me, it looks so nice.
Your deck—not a girl looks twice.

My deck has no poop on its wood.
Your deck can't, even if it could.
My deck is without any flaws.
Your deck looks crapped out by Jaws.