Mo the Knife.

Mohammad, you’re so fine. You’re so fine, you blow my mind.
Hey Dhimmi. Hey Dhimmi!



Dear sports, here's a classic from Wednesday 25 June 2008.


Maybe it’s because I’m an Islamist. [Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner.]

Maybe it's because I'm an Islamist,
That I hate London so.
Maybe it's because I'm a terrorist.
That I think of Mo whenever I blow.

I get an angry feeling inside of me,
When jumping up and down.
Maybe it's because I'm a Muslim,
That I bomb London Town.


Jihad Boy. [Georgie Girl.]

Hey there! Jihad boy,
Swinging down the street a total freak.
Nobody you meet could ever see,
The explosives there, inside you.

Hey there! Jihad Boy,
Why do all you boys just hate women?
Could it be you just a perv, or is it the rags you wear?

You're always widow shopping but never stopping to build.
Unsheathe those old box cutters and fly, a little bit.

Hey there! Jihad boy,
There's another Muslim creep inside.
Bring out all the hate you hide and oh,
What a change there'll be,
The world will see, the true Jihad boy.

Hey there! Jihad boy,
Dreaming of the virgins you believe.
Death is a reality, you can always blow away.
Don't be so scared of changing and rearranging yourself.
Its time for blowing up all of yourself, to little bits.


Well Halal Dhimmi. [Well Hello Dolly.]

I said Halal, dhimmi. Well, Halal, dhimmi.
It’s so sad to have you back where you went wrong.
You’re lookin’ Hell, dhimmi. I can tell, dhimmi.

Bombs still blowin’, you’re denyin’, we’re still goin’ down.
I feel that room swayin’, while the Imam's prayin’,
One of their old favourite Hadiths from way back when.
So, take their crap, fellas. Find you an empty sack, fellas.
Dhimmi you’ll blow away again.

So golly, gee, fellas. Find an empty train, fellas.
Dhimmi you ought to learn today, a dhimmi’s sure to die someday,
Dhimmi we’ll never come this way again.


What a Waleed full World. [What a wonderful world.]

I hear deception, what liars do,
I see them doom, both me and you.
And l think to myself, what a Waleed full world.

I see lies are true, and black is white,
The white cursed all day,
The dumb scared to fight.
And l think to myself, what a Waleed full world.

The canards of the phoney, so pretty in the lie.
Are also on the faces of people going by.
I see friends shakin' heads, sayin' "What do we do?
They're really saying, they fooled you!"

I hear students cryin', I watch them grow,
They'll learn nothing, that I really know.
And I think to myself, what a Waleed full world.
Yes, I think to myself, what a Waleed full world.


Mo the Knife. [Mack the knife. The Sinatra version]

Oh, the sheik had, shitty teeth dear,
And beheaded, Pearl all right.
Just a jack knife, for Jihad dear,
And he keeps it, way out of sight.

When Islam bites, with its teeth, dear,
Scarlet billows, begin to spread.
Fancy words though, has Mohammad,
So there’s never, never the truth that’s read.

On the sidewalk, on Sunday morning,
Lies a body, oozin’ life.
Someone’s sneaking, round the corner,
Could that someone, be Mo the knife?

From a car bomb, an intersection going slow,
An IED is blowing downtown.
You know that bomb blast, is for Islam dear,
You can make a large bet, Mo is back in town.

Their man Zarqawi, he's split the scene, babe,
After making mountains of dead, with Saudi cash.
Now Osama, spends like an Arab,
Do you suppose our boy, he caught some kind of rash?

Old Saddam, O bin Laden, Old Sheik Yassin.
Did this song nice, lady Yasser too.
They all sang it, with so much feeling,
That old dead eyes, he aint gonna add nothing new.

But with the Saudi, Kingdom behind them,
Lying hard, CAIR, they know they can’t lose.
When I tell you, all about Mo the knife babe,
Its an offer, you can never refuse.

We got dhimmitude, media playing that piano,
And the great big lie, bringing up the rear.
All the Left cats, in this band now,
They make the greatest sounds, you’re ever gonna hear.

Oh so its tawdry, phony bastards, can’t teach ‘em, old Mohammad got around.

Hey the line forms, on the Left dear,
Now Mohammads back in town.
You’d better lock your doors, they changed the law,
Because Mohammads back in town.


"A Basketball Jones is when you think of basketball so much, you are like a basketball!" Cheech and Chong.

Like a Killing Jones. [Like a Rolling Stone.]

Once upon a time you dressed so fine.
You blew five bombs a time with the prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware Mo, you're bound to fall"
You thought that Mossad’s hittin' you.

You used to laugh about,
Everybody that was hangin' out.
Now the bang sounds so loud,
Now you do seem so proud,
About having to be scraping up the human meal.

How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To kill with just a phone,
Like a complete unknown,
Like a killing Jones?

You've gone to the Islamic school all right, Mr Lonely,
But you know you only used to hate Jews in it.
And Hezbollah has really taught you how to flatten the street,
And now we find out we're just gonna have to get used to it.

You said you'd never compromise,
With the West and man, but now you realize,
The press are selling all your alibis,
As they stare into the vacuum of your eyes,
And ask you, do you want to make a deal?

How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be on your way,
With a direction home,
Like a complete unknown,
Like a killing Jones?

You always turn around to see dumb frowns on the media and the clowns,
When they all come down and do tricks for you.
You always understood that it sure is good,
You can let all the dhimmies make up bullshit for you.

You always lie on the tv show like a diplomat,
You go right over the head of a BBC prat.
Ain't it nice when you discover that,
He really was just where it's at,
After you took from him everything you could steal.

How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be on your own,
With no direction home,
Like a complete unknown,
Like a killing Jones?

Prince Abdullah’s steeple, and all the pretty people,
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made.
Emirates have all kinds of precious gifts and things,
But we'd better stop taking it in the ass, we better deport ‘em babe.

You used to be so abused,
At the madrassa in rags and the language that he used.
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse.
When you got Islam, you got nothing to lose.
You're so visible now, you got nuke secrets to conceal.

How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be on your own,
With no direction home,
Like a complete unknown,
Like a killing Jones?