Hey, Weasel...with deepest apologies to No Doubt
 
Hey weasel, hey weasel, hey
Jills say, hobs say,
Hey weasel, hey weasel, hey
Hey weasel, weasel
 
I'm the kind of jill that hangs with the guys
Like a fly on the wall with my secret eyes
Takin' it in, try to be feminine
With my squeeky toy watching all the sin
Misfit, I sit
Lit up, wicked
Everybody else surrounded by the jills
With the dirty socks and jingle balls
 
I'm just sipping on ferretone
Watching hobs and jills wrestle all alone
With a sable in my face who says he knows my mom
And came from my breeder
 
All the hobs say
Hey weasel, hey weasel, hey
Jills say, jills say,
Hey weasel, hey weasel, hey
Hey weasel, weasel
Hey weasel, hey weasel, hey
Hobs say, hobs say
Hey weasel, hey weasel, hey
All the hobs get the jills in the back
 
Melodyt and the elven eight
(Who's now wrecked Hey Baby for her daughter!  ;-) )
[Posted in FML issue 3743]