| When I was kid in my hometown
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| People would come from miles around
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| Just to get a job at the pharmaceutical factory
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| Making strong medicines of all descriptions
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| Now every time I get a new prescription
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| It brings a dose of old memories back to me
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| Now daddy was assigned to birth control pills
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| Breathing that air that was hormone-filled
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| And mama made bodybuilding steroids all day long
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| And when Sundays came, they sang in the choir
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| And even the angels had to admire
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| Make the hair stand up on the back of your neck when they sang a song
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| Mama sang bass, daddy sang tenor
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| You wouldn’t think she had it in her
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| But her voice got deeper and deeper every week
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| Daddy sang tenor, mama sang bass
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| She had strength and he had grace
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| It’s kind of like they traded places, so to speak
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| Well, the preacher said, «Folks, I recognize your talents
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| But you see, this choir’s out of balance
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| And the bass sounds better when it’s coming from the other side»
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| Well, mama’s patience never was the greatest
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| And daddy wouldn’t think of sitting with the ladies
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| So the only thing to do was give their hormones a ride
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| Now the factory was working on this DNA
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| That programs molecules in such a way
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| That anything wrong can sometimes be reversed
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| So they made 'em up a shot, put it in their veins
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| Waited all week 'til Sunday came
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| To see if that injection was a blessing or a curse
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| The media coverage was so intense
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| It made the OJ trial seem like a nonevent
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| The church was filled up to the brim
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| Just to hear that opening hymn, then
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| Mama sang bass, daddy sang tenor
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| She got stronger, he got thinner
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| That’s what you get for trying too hard to please
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| Daddy sang tenor, mama sang bass
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| He makes dinner while she shaves her face
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| Now what else do you want to know about the birds and the bees?
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| You know I got a powerful urge to scratch and spit
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| I love to watch baseball
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| Baseball? |
| Well, mama, you used to love to knit
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| What happened to that?
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| Knit? |
| Let’s go to the wrestling matches
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| Wrestling?
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| Let’s arm wrestle
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| Oh no
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| Hey, you ain’t got any red man on you, do you?
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| Red man?
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| I know, let’s go cow tippin'
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| Cow tippin'?
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| Listen, ma, you just about wore ol' Bossy out now
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| Quiet, you might wake her up
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| Rock-a-bye, Bossy
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| Lord, have mercy
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| Run, Bossy, run |