| One day about four or five years ago
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| We is settin' at the Conoco station
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| Kickin' tires, and swattin' flies
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| And discussin' the State of the Union
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| When right out in front of the Baptist church
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| Come a big ol' purple school bus
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| Had astrological signs upon it
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| And thirty-five hippies and dogs inside
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| About half of 'em went for the courthouse lawn
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| And them dogs commenced on the fireplug
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| Rest of 'em set there starin' at us
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| And I says, «Roy, go get your Flit gun»
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| He says, «Which is the hippies? |
| And which is the dogs?»
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| I says, «Beats the hell outta me, Roy.»
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| What they was, was a bunch a' them Crispy Critters
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| And their leader was a space cadet
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| He says, «Sagittarius, we has arrived
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| Prepare to disembark, men
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| Get the incense goin' and the sitar out
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| We gonna camp in the city park, man.»
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| I says, «Boys, let me explain the situation to ya
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| A: you’re gettin' me down
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| And B: we got us a leash law here
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| And C: you in the wrong town
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| You drop one string a' beads in that there park
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| And you gonna see a whole lotta stars
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| You got fifteen seconds to get out of town, boys
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| Or we gonna blow ya ta Mars.»
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| Well, they all got back in the purple bus
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| And proceeded to the city limits
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| Then the telephone rang, was the swimmin' pool
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| Says a mess a' wild Critters was in it!
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| So we all got in the Marshal’s Plymouth
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| (Which is always at the Conoco station)
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| Went flashin' on down to the swimmin' pool
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| To give them Critters a citation
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| By the time we arrived, it was too damn late
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| Them critters is all had their pants down
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| Them dogs was tearin' the bathhouse apart
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| And they’s after the fish in the fish pond!
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| I says, «Roy, you get the one in the silver T-shirt
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| «And I’ll get the rest with a net
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| We gonna have a jail full a' naked Crispy Critters
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| And a drip-dry space cadet.»
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| Well, we gave 'em hell, but we lost the war
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| 'Cause them Critters outnumbered us
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| So they moved in and set up camp
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| And they lived in that purple school bus
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| Six weeks later, there was nothin' in town
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| But eighty-four dogs and a head shop
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| Sellin' dried up weeds, and sunflower seeds
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| And astrological postcards
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| Yeah, Critters took over the City Council
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| And the dogs all barked their brains out
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| And the whole damn town was Crispy Critters
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| And the mayor was a space cadet |