This one's a little more challenging than the last one, and plumbs almost unheard of depths of the human psyche, so don't worry if the nausea kicks in before the end of the first stanza.
British Summertime by Valentine Suicide (Poet)
Avast ye, Derek, lamb chop feast,
Come hither 'neath the Rhine,
And rest your evil succubus,
against a withered vine.
Whilst kneeling awkward, hinterland,
force gentle swans to bear,
brief dentists, snowmen on a beach,
and elders into care.
Pork soldiers, ferrets eat the moon,
and dance among the dead,
light porridge, frost and dangers lost,
rest weary in me head.