THREE LIL DOGGIES FROM TEXAS

Ace has the story (hat tip: Larwyn); and it got me to singin' this sad ole cowboy song of my youth:

As I was out walkin' one mornin' for pleasure, I spied three Jihadis a-plannin' their death.
Their faces were masked, their cell phones a-jinglin'; and as they blew up they all screamed with one breath:

[Chorus:]
Whoopee ta-qiy-ya, go to hell, infidels. It's always your fault and none of my own.
Whoopee ta-qiy-ya, go to hell, infidels. You know I'll have virgins in allah's new home.

It's early in the spring when they round up these doggies. They mark 'em and brand 'em and send 'em to die.
They brainwash the minds with their pissant religion. And inspire the dumb ones to blow up sky high.

[Chorus]
Whoopee ta-qiy-ya, go to hell, infidels. It's always your fault and none of my own.
Whoopee ta-qiy-ya, go to hell, infidels. You know I'll have virgins in allah's new home.

And if they believe that they're goin' to heaven, they're dumber than dirt or as bright as an ant.
And as for the virgins what good would it do 'em? They don't have the balls to deflower a plant.

[Chorus]
Whoopee ta-qiy-ya, go to hell, infidels. It's always your fault and none of my own.
Whoopee ta-qiy-ya, go to hell, infidels. You know I'll have virgins in allah's new home.