I was working for my dad, late one night,
when made guys walked in to set me right.
These were mobsters who were there to put me wise.
They’d demonstrate before my eyes.

They did the bash, they did the mobster bash,
The mobster bash; it was a nasal smash;
They did the mash; the blood started to splash;
They did the bash, they did the mobster bash.

I was banged and bloodied but started to speak,
but these Mafiosi, in a fit of pique.
They cooled it not as they punched my earlobes—
at least they had foregone anal probes.

They did the bash, they did the mobster bash,
The mobster bash; it was a facial smash.
They did the mash; the blood streamed from a gash.
They did the bash, they did the mobster bash.

These Gottis were having fun;
they punched, each and every one.
The guests included skull saps and a whole lot of guns.

The scene was knockouts, or at least knocking down.
Santo laid chains on me, down on the ground
These coffin-fillers said to me, “Hey, no jive,
you’re lucky, kid, that you are still alive!”

They did the bash, they did the mobster bash,
The mobster bash; it was a face-hard smash.
They did the mash and as well, took my cash.
They did the bash, they did the mobster bash.

Pounding and knocking made my ears ring;
I knew they were gonna take my bling.
They smote my eyelid; shed was some sanguine mist.
And then they gave me a nasty testicular twist.

Vermillion, my drool, and mangled was my gland—
this mobster bash was getting way out of hand.
I am still living, despite all this crew.
When they walked out my door, they said, “Next payment’s due!”

My faced was mashed, they’d done the mobster smash,
The mobster bash, as well as a safe smash.
They did the smash, which gave them all my cash.
They did the bash; I did a molar gnash!