Your pudding cakes have made me sick They're clear as mud or a pocket knife Let's swim with dad without the wheelchair I've sunk to the bottom and drown like a brick
These damn hiccups Are bringing me down I'm tired of reasons It's time to fist fight Old men and women Sleep in the park Then young children steal their stuff
Trap beavers in the woods then bring em' home We can barbecue out back With some propane gas Make some room for dessert We've got plenty of soup We've got chicken noodle Or the vegetable beef
Fiberglass
With malted barley selected cereal grains And the choicest hops for superior taste I've slipped in the bathtub Just bring me a towel Then put my slippers on Before I freeze to death
