45*21

I was hangin with Bunk Gardner in the salad bowl
had to fork over the menage of troels
Grandpa's got nasty moles
what a lousy mother. If she were my daughter
I'd send it off without a stamp
then, you know, we had-a eat our tropes
it felt smooth as blubber
I tried to play with that song sixteen times
that's when I lost my mind. my tongue got forked
the sax went in different directions and up too
I kissed her nape and felt like an ape
happy Grandmothers Day Sally!
Let's hope it goes well or we'll be lost pudding
something's rotten in that sandwich
better not be estin it. might cause dissection
or perhaps bisection or some reflection
God! I hate this one
this one's gonna cause me my life
and in death the notion of life will just sit there
a turtle in the middle of the road
such a behemoth and gone like Friday