A confession.
There is a 19th century broadside ballad called Fanny Adams. Sample verse:
When the neighbours came home without my Fanny
The neighbours searched the country all aroud
They found the head with both the eyes out
And the left arm cut off upon the ground.
In my callow youth I once sang this, hammed it up for all it wa worth and got a barrel of laughs for it. Shortly afterwards I went back and listened to the recording of the old gypsy singer Vashti Vincent singing it - and singing it without a trace of parody or detachment, but a total commitment to a song about a paedophilic murder which clearly deeply affected her. I have often since sung songs which are parodies of other songs, but I have never again parioded a song by taking the piss out of the original, however bad. The old singers thought they were worth passing on to us. If we don't like them we should leave them alone, not make fun of them.