i dare say, silent movie in the genre of horror?*

Sven and me, no, not Geoffrey or Norbert,
Sven, the coconut,
donned a red woollen glove on his coconut
scalp and told him: you're a cockerel alarm
clock from now on; Sven liked it,
i told him: you're not a bowling ball,
you've just chewed cashews
in your mouth socket, and now the
undigested pulp; if not then off to the
bowling alley with you - ah my sweet
tropical island smurf / cannibal necklace
skull of a little monkey of imitated kindred
physiognomy, oh pooh bear, pooh.