Spamlet

Ok, it's not a song, but it's still aimed at the trolls.

To bleat or not to bleat, that is the question.
Whether ‘tis rosier in the mind
To suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous putdowns
Or to flail arms against a cell of bubbas and by appeasing rim them?
To lie, to bleat: no more!
And by a bleat to say we end a fruitcake
And the thousand convicted cocks
That flesh is bared to.
To lie, to bleat; to bleat, perchance to scream:
Ay, there’s the rub:
For in that bleat of jest what screams may come
When we have suckled off his purple cod
Must leave us raw!

Spamlet, Act III, Scene II