He likes it ’cause it’s cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He’s nibbling the noodles,
He’s munching the rice,
He’s slurping the soda,
He’s licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he’s in there-
That polary bear
In our Fridgitydaire.
Similar Posts
I’ll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown
His shoes were too big and his hat was too small,But he just wasn’t, just wasn’t funny at all.He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes,He had a green dog and a thousand balloons.He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall,But he just wasn’t, just wasn’t funny at all.And every time he did…
(Chorus)
Take off that red satin dress.‘Cause I crossed the border,And I beat the dealer for all of that gold in Juarez.I feel like ol’ Pancho Villa, Sheila,And I’ve got the pesos to spend,So pour me another tequila, Sheila.And lay down and love me again.No I can’t tell you about it.Don’t mind the gun by my…
Oh the changing of the seasons it’s a pretty thing to see
There’s the wind come from tomorrow and I hear it callin’ meAnd I’m bound for the changing of the seasonsOh it’s blowin’ in Chicago and it’s snowin’ up in MaineAnd the Islands to the south are warm and sunnyAnd I’ve got to feel the earth shake and I gotta feel the rainAnd I’ve got to…
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.His workbook is wedged in the window,His sweater’s been thrown on the floor.His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.His books are all jammed in the closet,His vest has been…
God says to me with a kind of smile,
And steer the world?’‘Okay,’ says I, ‘I’ll give it a try.Where do I set?How much do I get?What time is lunch?When can I quit?’‘Gimme back that wheel,’ says God.‘I don’t think you’re quite ready yet.’
In a pad with no heat, up on Sullivan Street,
Wearin’ his shades, so like no one could tellLike whether or not he was cryin’.All the junkies and lonersAn’ coffee shop ownersWere all gathered ’round his bed.He took one last puffOf some imported stuffAnd this are the last words he said.He said, ‘Send my sandals home to Mom,Hang my T-shirt away.Burn my guitarIn Washington Squar’,‘Cause…