Could've kept your point horde,
If you'd just swallowed your pride.
Could've still been named Ford,
If you didn't make bet suicide.
All you did was put off,
Now you finally pay the price.
You wouldn't be a robot,
T-Count handed you the game,
Now you're a mechanical snot,
And there's no-one else to blame!
You can't escape-- the BAN-HAMMER!
You didn't even try!
You finally got the BAN-HAMMER!
This'll be the end of you.
Now you've been repressed,
Trapped in the body of your own son!
Managed to lose a contest,
That fucking Wibbons' story won!
You didn't stop-- the BAN-HAMMER!
You didn't give a fuck!
Could've avoided-- BAN-HAMMER!
But you were a cuck!
You only got-- the BAN-HAMMER!
You disgrace to March's honor!
You got-- BAN-HAMMERED!
Let there be no doubt about it!
(Banned! Banned! BAN-HAMMER!)
Ford is banished, (Ford is banished! Ford is banished!)
And he's shed his skin! (Shed his skin!)
This is the new Ford, (This is the new Ford!)
He's not cash money. (Not very cash money!)
Oh won't you ag him on, (Ag him on!)
So he'll write something, (Write something!)
Ag him on! (Ag him on!)
So he'll write something! (Write something!)
I mean something good. (Ag him on!)
He might come through! (Write something!)
Don't hold your breath though, (Ag him on!)
Don't hold your breath now, hey! (Write something!)
Come on, come on help him do!
I'll write Wibbons's anthem of disappointment later, maybe. For now, I'm content with harrassing Ford and having an excuse to listen to Peter Gabriel.