Give it a rest;

We wouldn't buy it,

Unless you confessed.

That explanation

For blood in the Bronco—

You couldn't sell it if you worked for Ronco!

Mister Simpson!

Give us a break;

How much baloney

D'you think we can take?

So please turn off your flack machine—

Mister Simpson, why not come clean?

Mister Simpson!

Give it a rest;

You've told your story,

But we're unimpressed.

That talk of chip shots

Was simply malarkey;

By rights, you should have had to date Old Sparky!

Mister Simpson!

Cut out the jive;

If you'd been elsewhere,

They'd still be alive.

So please turn off that damned machine—

Mister Simpson, don't be obscene!

Mister Simpson!

Bully for you!

You fooled a jury

With rannygazoo.

You put those gloves on

And brought home the bacon;

The Fifth Amendment—and the Truth—got taken!

Mister Simpson!

Here is a flash:

The civil action

Will settle your hash.

So find yourself a cash machine—

Mister Simpson, cough up the green!