I was shadow-boxing earlier
in the day
I figured I was ready for
Cassius Clay
I said "Fee, fie, fo, fum,
Cassius Clay, here I come
26, 27, 28, 29, I'm gonna
make your face look just like mine
Five, four, three, two, one,
Cassius Clay you'd better run
99, 100, 101, 102, your ma
won't even recognize you
14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna
knock him clean right out of his spleen."
Well, I don't know, but I've
been told
The streets in heaven are
lined with gold
I ask you how things could
get much worse
If the Russians happen to
get up there first.
Wowee' pretty scary!
Now, I'm liberal, but to a
degree
I want ev'rybody to be free
But if you think that I'll
let Barry Goldwater
Move in next door and marry
my daughter
You must think I'm crazy!
I wouldn't let him do it for
all the farms in Cuba.
Well, I set my monkey on the
log
And ordered him to do the
Dog
He wagged his tail and shook
his head
And he went and did the Cat
instead
He's a weird monkey, very
funky.
I sat with my high-heeled sneakers
on
Waiting to play tennis in
the noonday sun
I had my white shorts rolled
up past my waist
And my wig-hat was falling
in my face
But they wouldn't let me on
the tennis court.
I gotta woman, she's so mean
She sticks my boots in the
washing machine
Sticks me with buckshot when
I'm nude
Puts bubblegum in my food
She's funny, wants my money,
calls me "honey."
Now I gotta friend who spends
his life
Stabbing my picture with a
bowie-knife
Dreams of strangling me with
a scarf
When my name comes up he pretends
to barf.
I've got a million friends!
Now they asked me to read a
poem
At the sorority sister's home
I got knocked down and my
head was swimmin'
I wound up with the Dean of
Women
Yippee! I'm a poet, and I
know it.
Hope I don't blow it.
I'm gonna grow my hair down
to my feet so strange
So I look like a walking mountain
range
And I'm gonna ride into Omaha
on a horse
Out to the country club and
the golf course.
Carry the New York Times,
shoot a few holes, blow their minds.
Now you're probably wondering
by now
Just what this song is all
about
What's probably got you baffled
more
Is what this thing here is
for.
It's nothing
It's something I learned over
in England.
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |