What if Christmas didn't come this year.
And no one paid for Christmas cheer.
Who would cry the biggest tear.
The child or the store.
Why do brides where virgin white.
Most do not deserve that right.
But to choose a color of their delight.
Would surely bring on the frown.

To defy the laws of tradition
Is a crusade only of the brave.

Suppose the taxman, he comes to town.
And you don't law your money down.
Yet Mr. Jones he killed Mr. Brown the other day.
Well I wonder, who's gonna go to hell.

When I woke up this morning I felt a pang.
I was hungerin' for some apple pie.
Stumble in the bathroom, hung my hog a little bit.
Washed the sleep up out my eye.
Oh yeah, it's gonna be a fine day.

Scratched myself a bit.
Poured me out a bowl-a Cornchex.
Closest thing I could find to apple pie.
Lingerin' taste of toothpaste made the milk go down a bit funny.
But you know, them chex they do satisfy.
Oh yeah, this'll be a fine day.

So, after my mornin' rise-n-shine and eat-n-clean.
Had my mind set to hit them streets.
Drizzle from the night left the cold puddles out.
Had my black stomp-boots on my feet.
It's my day.

Since I was in knee pants my pop had ried to make me realize.
If I set my mind down to it I could be a big man in the public eye.
So with my big blue collar on, I set out to find the easy way.
What an ice cold bath it was when I found you had to pay to play.
To taste the taste it's a tease that never would subside.
The taste is strong but soured by my learned eyes.
Well, if a woodcheck could chuck wood,
He'd get down on his knees and pray.
This little snappy boy might see the light this Ground Hog's day.

Too many puppies are being shot in the dark.
Too many puppies are trained not to bark.
At the sight of the blood that must be spilled
So that we may maintain out oil fields.

Too many puppies.

Too many puppies are trained to heal.
Too many puppies are trained to kill.
On the command of men wearing money belts that buy
Mistresses sleek animal pelts.

Too many puppies.

Too many puppies with guns in their hands.
Too many puppies in foreign lands.
Are dressed up sharp in suits of green
And placed upon the war machine.
Too many puppies are just like me.
Too many puppies are afraid to see.
The visions of the past brought to life again,
Too many puppies, too many dead men.

They call me Mr. Knowitall.
I will not compromise.
I will not be told what to do.
I shall not step aside.

They call me Mr. Knowitall.
I have no time to waste.
My mouth it spews pure intellect.
And I've such elegant taste.

They call me Mr. Knowitall.
I sup the aged wine.
Oh I could tell such onderous tales
If I should find the time.
I must be Mr. Knowitall
For ideas they come in bounds.
I am Mr. Knowitall
So spread the word around.

They call me Mr. Knowitall.
I am so eloquent.
Perfection is my middle name
And what ever rhymes with eloquent.

Hello all you boys and girls.
I'd like to take you to the inside world.
It's quite and irregular place to be.
But never fear you're safe with me.
Well, maybe.

Golden hair of Macrame'
Against the face that's cut from stone.
The white porcelain is screaming Ayee.
Thank god the boy is not alone.

I don't believe in Santa Claus.
I don't believe in spite.
I have no use for beauty dolls.
Especially on this night.
I don't believe in miracles.
I don't believe in lies.
I don't believe in holograms
For I am the Frizzle Fry.
Andy painting green again,
This time they might take him away.

When Barington starts to breath again.
It may just take us all away.

I don't believe in charity.
I don't believe in sin.
And if you don't believe in me,
We'll play this tune over again.
I don't believe in pinochle
And I don't believe I'll try.
I do believe in Captain Crunch
For I am the Frizzle Fry.
Yes I am the Frizzle Fry.

When he was young
You'd not find him doing well in school,
His mind would turn unto the waters.
Always the focus of adolestent ridicule,
He has no time for farmers daughters.
Alienated from the clique society,
A lonely boy finds peace in fishing.
His mother says
"John this is not the way lifes supposed to be."
"Don't you see the life you're missing?"
And he says...

When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.

Now years gone by
We find a man who rules the sea.
He sets out on a dark May morning.
To bring his catch back to this small community.
He doesn't see the danger dawning.
Four hours up,
Oh the ocean swelled and swelled,
The fog rolled in it started raining.
"The starboard bow."
"Oh my god we're going down!"
They do not hear his frantic mayday.
And he says...

When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
"I'll live and die a fisherman."
Calling John the Fisherman.

An overaged boy of 39 has left the wing today,
The first time in his life he's made that step.
Be numbed by the society and plagued by insecurity.
He's entered into a race that must be won.
One of the animals has left it's cage today.
In search of better things so it seems to be.
But in this land of polyurethane,
Things are apt to get a bit hot.

As the toys go winding down.

C.G. the mexican is a friend of mine.
We used to sit around the house watching Evil Dead.
Talking about the way it used to be...
We used to pull the stripers out of San Pablo Bay.
But now the delta waters go down So. Cal.
And the stripers start to fade away.
It's Pudding Time, it's pudding time!

As the toys go winding down.

You can have a lolli pop a candy bar a jelly bean.
I'll buy you a rainbow to hang above you're door.

It's pudding time.

Laughter is a sweet you can't put a price on.
When laughter's all gone daddy won't buy you more.

It's pudding time.
It's pudding time children.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the king's horse and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.

San Fransisco Bay the striped bass are dying.
But you're gonna get that brand new bike.
Oh joy

It's pudding time.
It's pudding time children.

We are gathered here today
In these magestic halls to honor
A man they call Saughtington Willoughby.
There's a joke or two, a pun or three
I fell that must be told
Then I gon on to speak of Sauthington Willoughby.
Saughtington Willoughby
The legislator that penned us up a bill
That banned the use of certain things
Like this and that.

Why do we do this, C.G. and I?
Every night vegetables,
Minds numbed by THC.
I've got my pen, C.G. the remote.
Laurel and Hardy's the best bet at four AM on a Friday.
No dreads about the working day after though.
Funny thing about weekends when you're unemployed.
They don't mean quite so much,
Except you get to hang out with you're working friends.
Well we got us a spegetti western on 36.
I like spegetti westerns.
I like the way the boots are all reverbed out
Walking across the hardwood floors.
In fact, everythings got that big reverb sound.
Well what'll we do now?
Go to sleep.
Pull the pud.
We need new pornos.
Well I guess I'm still writing...

It was a weekends eve,
I had sex on my breath
I was lookin' for somethin' to see.
With a borrowed black leather and my best fishin' hat,
Well it was just Wendy O. and me.
We called old swamp up on the telephone
And said we was comin' on down to pick him up and then,
He said "Hey snappy, me and Grenny'll come along.
But only if we can bring a friend."
"His name is Harold."
I said, "Okay."
Now, we had a Swamper, Greeny, Wendy O., Stanely,
Harold of the Rocks and Me.
We hopped into my dart and headed for the nightbreak
To see a man they call Schooly D.
Harold he's a friendly guy.
He rambles on and on.
He'll talk the balls off a rhinosaurus.
Fact is he just doesn't make much sense.
Well Stan said "This guy's pretty bizarre Gus."

Harold of the Rocks.

I saw Harold at a party Trouzy threw late one night.
I said, "Hey man, do you remember me?"
He said, "O' course I do Snapdad and let me tell ya
Right 'bout now now I'm lit up like an ol' christmas tree."
"Hey bro you know I'd like to thank you once again
For let'n me hang with ya'all across the bay.
When I look back at that night I get a warm spot across my heart.
Then he shook my hand, and walked away.
That's the last I seen of Harold.

Harold of the Rocks.

So in the end,
Swamper and Greeny finally succumb to the ways of Harold.
And in doing so, each gave just a little bit of his soul away.
What a couple of dumbshits.

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