The Ballad Of Bob The Snow Golem - Dan Bull

In the middle of the village was a household

A little different to the others, they weren’t as cold

So let’s go down below

To meet the only townsfolk made out of snow

He was a clown, you know, loved pranking, bro

Suddenly pouncing, making people round say, «Oh!»

His name was bob and his daily job

Was guarding the town nightly at eight o’clock

But Bob got so bored

That he’d lob snowballs at the locals

And although all snow that was thrown here was frozen

Nobody really thought it was so cool

Wasn’t the most socially appropriate

Mode of approaching the folk who would go to the law court

To report that he broke rules

Had a vote and of course they’d enforce he be stonewalled

He was caged and afraid, he would wave and say, «Hey»

To the kids, parents shaking their heads

And they would make them look away

Just as if he didn’t exist

And so Bob made the decision to begin making amends

Said, «Sorry, mama, never meant to hit you

Never meant to make you cry

So could I be freed now?»

I promise that I will throw no snow

I’ll go home, keep it on the low low, so

This town isn’t a no go zone no more

Just a cup of cocoa and a ho ho ho

No po po, yo, just a nice time, ah

Though uh-oh, yo, it’s the night time

Ah, and once the sunset’s done, the undead come so be afraid

They’re such a hungry bunch, they want to munch and eat your brains

Nowhere to run and hide, no they’ll just come inside

Wherever you put your bum, they’re going to come and find you

But Bob noticed the bloody loud commotion

Would have dove in but wasn’t allowed, the townsfolk

Just forbode him, it was foreboding to know

That he couldn’t go, no chucking snow, so he felt frozen

The zombies closed in, it was as though

They were hunting for something, enclosures were opened

Pumpkins were jumped, there was no clear motive

But phobia punching a pumpkin is odious

Bob took umbrage at his bros being broken

And broke those oaths that he won’t throw snow

He was ready to bury any undead in the area

With a bo, bo, bo, bo, bo

Go home, zombies, ain’t it obvious, we don’t want them

We got 'em good, got 'em gone, and with no problem

So the folk bestowed honors and wrote heroid songs

In honor of Bob the snow golem

And although they were so fond of him, doted on him

They couldn’t condone lobbing snow with no punishment

He was thrown back inside, like Bo Burnham

Was trapped in an iron and stone column, no comment

How could you live knowing you’ve done it?

Have you no honor?

Got me stuck here till the midsummer?

That’s some folk horror

Folks want to go on about having free will

Till you put 'em in a crowd more than three then they’re evil

That’s when Bob said, «Well, then I’ll be damned

If I let the crowd mentality get me down, I’m planning to throw down

You turned me barbaric like a snowcone Conan

Now feel the wrath of the snowman

Brap, brap, brap, run home and close the doors

I’m chucking frozen balls at you with no remorse

You could have brokered peace but now you’ve chosen war

I’ll suffer no defeat till every person falls

So every player be warned, this is the perfect storm

And till the weather’s turning warm

I’ll lob those snowballs at the locals till there are no more