| I hate the steam train that whistles woozy my bird brain
|
| That sends my spaniel insane
|
| And I’ll stop riding side saddle if they don’t stop the clickity clattle
|
| I’ll jump in the undertow penguin paddle and drown in my wedding gown
|
| I’ve been told the Bronx River stream on moonlit nights is meant
|
| To seem like the Rhone in a glacier icy dream but then in a poof t’s sulfur
|
| steam
|
| I hate the aeroplane that nearly misses my birdie brain
|
| That terrifies my terrier insane
|
| And I’ll stop riding side saddle if they don’t stop the clickity clattle
|
| I’ll jump in the undertow penguin paddle and drown in my dressing gown
|
| I was drinking by the Des Plaines River when the naught of night
|
| Served for making me shiver and me the squirrels would hold hands
|
| And quiver cause that damnable diesel never fails to deliver
|
| I hate the livery cars that has my bird brain seeing stars
|
| That drive my Doberman to drink in bars
|
| And I’ll stop riding side saddle if they don’t stop the clickity clattle
|
| I’ll jump in the undertow penguin paddle and drown in my wedding gown
|
| I hate the steam train that whistles woozy my bird brain
|
| That sends my spaniel insane
|
| And I’ll stop riding side saddle if they don’t stop the clickity clattle
|
| I’ll jump in the undertow penguin paddle and drown in my dressing gown |