"So wily Lou has picked the locks
That kept him in his padded box
And tiptoed off, in just his socks.
Or should we say, weighed anchor?
So now we wonder where he docks
To whom he'll lead his rabid flocks:
The Pop that loves his famous Vox
And adores his rancor.
A network just for frat-boy jocks?
Where aliens are put in stocks
And viewers pelt them with big rocks
Before each half-time show?
Could it be UPN, or Cox?
They'd have to open up Fort Knox
We know Lou's crazy, like a Fox.
I'd really love to know."
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