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Rolf Harris Reportedly Pens Song In Prison Mocking His Victims

Prepare for one hell of an almighty “UGGHHHHHHHH”, as it’s being reported in UK media that disgraced former entertainer, and current most-hated Australian, Rolf Harris, has written a song whilst in prison which mocks the victims of his sexual abuse.

Currently seeing out his five-year prison sentence after being convicted for twelve counts of indecent assault against women as young as eight, the 84-year-old is apparently spending his time continuing to write songs, one of which has been obtained by UK paper The Mail On Sunday which refers supposedly damn his victims as “wenches” and “brags about his cushy life in jail”.

The paper’s front page also contains the following lyrics, reportedly from the same song:

“Climb up out of the woodwork babe
From forty years ago,
The climate’s great in Britain now,
For making lots of dough
You’ve festered down there long enough
Time’s right to grab your chance
Clap eyes on a rich celebrity
And make the bastard dance”

Ohhhh, man this guy sucks so bad. I know he’s already been kicked out the ARIA hall of fame and been stripped of his Order of Australia Medal, but is there any further way to expunge this sinister, foul old man from our history books?

You can read the full lyrics via Yahoo, below. Warning: it’s pretty damn upsetting.

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Lyrics in full:
Climb up out of the woodwork babe
From forty years ago
The climate’s great in Britain now
For making loads of dough
You’ve festered down there long enough
Time’s right to grab your chance
Clap eyes on a rich celebrity
And make the bastard dance

Make him squirm, slimy little woodworm
Make him squirm, squirm, squirm
Sink your claws right in to the hilt, don’t like him go

(Group) No! No!

Make him burn, burn, burn,
Slimy little woodworm, make him burn
Get your fifty-years-old hooks into his dough

(Group) Go baby go

The old bandwagon you crawled out of
(Rotten to the core)
Conceals a host of foul accusers
Twenty maybe more
My guess is they’ll slide after you
All following your stench
Perhaps you believe you’re pretty still
Some perfumed sultry wench

Make him squirm
I can hear you singing
Make him squirm, squirm, squirm
Just imagine all of the money waiting there

(Group) Oh Yeah

Make him burn, burn, burn
Come and join the feeding frenzy girls,
Don’t miss out, come on join me for your share

(Group) Put it there

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