Whoop-de-ti-yi-o, get along, little Gargoyle,
You know the Inferno will be your new home.
Whoop-de ti-yi-o, get along little Gargoyle,
It's your misfortune and none of our own.
We'll slap on a brand and cut off his tail,
And soon he'll be the weiner on the mixed grill.
Beelzebub will wash him down with syllabub,
Covered in mustard and served up hot in a sub.