AIN'T SHE CUTE? |
Hi ho for a day at the Laundromat, it's one of my favorite sports!
No wondering where the yellow went, it's there in my threadbare shorts.
My holy socks turn the water dark, and my whitish clothes as well,
I doubt that they ever do get clean but at least they no longer smell.
No wondering where the yellow went, it's there in my threadbare shorts.
My holy socks turn the water dark, and my whitish clothes as well,
I doubt that they ever do get clean but at least they no longer smell.
I spend the drying time hitting on the hot chick from Guatermeller,
But who is the dude with the machete blade, he seems quite an irritable feller?
CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG? |
Hey, calm down Bud how am I to know that the hot chick is your wife?
No need for thuggery, mayhem and gore nor all other forms of strife!
Well. In all my years at the laundromat I've learned to wash out mud.
Food stains and paint and litter box taint, and now I can tackle blood.
When next I visit the laundromat I'll leave Guatemalan chicks alone
Cause the blood I must wash from my tattered clothes?
All of it is my own.
I knew a man, he was my lodger,
He used to fly the Jolly Rodger
And all who sailed he would despoil
From Nassau Town to old Port Royal
But Port Royal vanished 'neath the sea
And Nassau fell, a victory
Of British arms.
Tortuga too, had lost its charms
As a haven for Brethren of the Coast
But ere my boarder gave up his ghost
He hired a ship and took to sea
With corsairs nigh as aged as he
And took a Spanish treasure barque
And what had started as a lark
Became the fortune of them all
So long ago, but I recall,
The largess of this ancient rogue
Who now, long gone, must fry in hell.
But while among us? Tipped real well.